The Confidants' Club
by CrystallineMaple
Summary: After Gilbert Beilschmidt kills himself, eight of his friends find his suicide note, only to discover that they're in it. They form The Confidants' Club, determined that the secrets they told Gilbert will never be revealed. But can they stay in an alliance when their differences start tearing them apart? Multiple pairings. DRAMA.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This was just an idea I had, and I decided to put it on paper - or, well, screen...? Anyway, please review/follow/fave and let me know what you think!

* * *

**December 1st**

The house was absolutely quiet, the only noise coming from a large, wooden grandfather clock perched in the corner of the hallway. Matthew shivered, feeling a sense of foreboding.

Gilbert's house.

He was here again.

Actually, they all were - Matthew had stopped by Gilbert's house that bitter, cold afternoon since Herr and Frau Beilschmidt had insisted earlier that Matthew and some of Gilbert's other friends collect the things their son had left for them. The two parents were so grief-stricken that even though Matthew had hockey practice to attend and homework to do, he didn't protest.

"Well, let's get this shit over with."

"Mathias, hush. That's no way to speak," Elizaveta Héderváry scolded the Dane. "We need to be polite, and gather these things. And... pay respects."

"We already paid respects at the funeral, Elizaveta. I really don't want to see this stuff. I don't want to see his room again, okay?" Mathias' voice was borderline hysterical, a tone that didn't suit the sturdy Scandinavian.

Matthew looked back at the rest of the group. Everyone looked uncomfortable; the unusual gathering consisted of Mathias Køhler, Elizaveta Héderváry, Ivan Braginsky, Francis Bonnefoy, Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo, Alfred Jones, Arthur Kirkland, and Matthew, of course. But, with eight people, how much stuff could there even be for everyone?

"Stop standing around," Arthur complained. "We don't have all day." He shoved Matthew out of the way and began walking up the carpeted stairs, heading for Gilbert's room.

Arthur was still furious. How could Gilbert-freaking-Beilschmidt, of all the people in the world, have killed himself? Gilbert seemed so happy, so carefree, so utterly above the influence of everyone. The Brit felt as if he were moving through life like swimming through a nightmare - slowly and in constant suspense. He stopped at Gilbert's door.

"Here," Antonio said quietly, opening the door to Gilbert's room. It was normal - perfectly clean, perfectly quiet, perfectly _empty. _A box of things sat on the bed, still taped closed, labeled _For my friends _in Gilbert's messy scrawl.

"So, who wants to open it?" Matthew ventured, running a hand through his hair nervously.

Mathias sighed. "Fine, fine, I will." He grabbed the cardboard box and sliced through the duct tape with a pocket knife that had been sitting on Gilbert's desk. "Huh?"

"What is it?" Ivan asked, moving to see, and the rest of the group crowded around the box.

"Oh, shit, man," Alfred whispered.

And then it was a free-for-all. Everyone was snatching for the one object that was in the box - a letter - shouting, "Hand it to me," or "What does it say?", until finally Ivan, who was the tallest person there, held it above everyone, growling, "Stop. Stop!"

After a moment, there was silence again. Ivan cleared his throat. "Excuse me! I will just read this aloud to everyone," he said, fixing his icy violet eyes on the other seven people, daring them to object. When no one did, he drew in a deep breath, and began.

"_Before I killed myself, I told my parents to invite eight people over to the house. I trust they brought the right people over, because they were not idiots. Now, don't worry - you all are the first people to see this letter. Do you understand? You are the first people to see this letter." _

"That's touching," Elizaveta said. "He trusts us before anyone else!"

_"But you are not the first people to hear these secrets. Let me tell you, plain and clear - if you are one of the eight people here, it's because of you that I killed myself. Do you hear that? It's your fault. It's because of"- _Ivan broke off for a second. _"Because of you." _

Stunned silence.

"Wh-what?" Francis half-laughed, half-whispered. "That can't be right - we were all friends with Gil!"

Antonio looked like he was about to vomit up tomatoes and churros, and Ivan, face pale, continued shakily.

_"You are all probably shocked! Wondering what you did to me, right? I'll explain. Think back. Way back in your memory to that one secret you have that would absolutely ruin you if anyone found out. The very terrible one that would destroy your awesome image - the one you shared with me. Only you and I know it, right? False. Since there are eight of you, there are eight secrets, obviously. So I found eight other people who attend our school and each told them one secret - one of yours. You get what I'm saying? For example, I told Elizaveta's secret to one person, and Francis' secret to one different person, and so on... And these other eight people will not hesitate to get your secret out." _

Elizaveta looked like she was having a stroke. "What? What the hell? What do we do? Why would he tell other people our secrets?!"

_"Anyways, I'm sure you all are pretty damn stupid, so here's the fun part - if you can figure out the person who knows your secret and you confront them about it, they won't tell anyone. So you'll each need to talk to a different person. But if you can't figure it out by December 25th - Christmas - well, everyone will know. Now, have a long and happy life. The life I never got to live. Sincerely, Gilbert Beilschmidt." _

The mood of the room was tense, a storm getting ready to break.

"A-at least only one other person knows your secret," Antonio offered.

Mathias shook his head. "No! No one can know that secret. No one can know any of this. Shit. I never should have told Gilbert."

"What's the point of this?" wailed Elizaveta. "Is he trying to get us to prove we can figure it out or something?" Tears were streaming down her face, though no one dared laugh; she wasn't the only one crying. There was a sharp knock on the door, and Ivan shoved the paper into his pocket.

Ludwig, Gilbert's younger brother, opened the door. "Um, would you all care for snacks?"

"No," Ivan said. "No snacks. Please. Please, just give us a moment."

Ludwig nodded, his lips pressed together tightly, and turned on his heel, closing the door gently behind him.

"I suppose we each need to find our secret-keeper," Arthur said. "And we need to find them fast. We have to pinpoint them by the twenty-fifth, and today is the first. We have nearly a month, and Gilbert didn't exactly leave us a lot to go on."

"What secret was Gilbert talking about, with you guys?" Matthew questioned nervously.

Alfred laughed, short and sharp. "Dude. I'm absolutely withholding that information."

"Well, unless you can find your damn secret-keeper, you won't be 'withholding' much information," Mathias snapped.

"Wait," Ivan said. He had taken the crumpled letter out of his pocket and was examining it. "Oh, Gilbert left a post-script."

"Is it a hint?" Elizaveta asked.

"No... actually, he says that the secret-keepers are not operating as a group. Therefore, if you don't find your secret-keeper, your secret and yours alone will be spilled."

"What?" Alfred barked. "What does that mean?"

Arthur nodded. "I get it. For example, if Alfred is stupid enough that he cannot find his secret-keeper, but I manage to find mine, Alfred's secret will be shared, and mine will not."

"Whatever," Mathias snapped. "You all find your own secret-keepers. I'm working alone here." The blond stood up and stormed out of Gilbert's room, and thirty seconds later, the other seven students heard the front door close.

"Wow, he's friendly today," Elizaveta commented, but her tone of voice was dull, and everyone in the room was sharing that same feeling as the weight of the situation settled upon them: They had better find their secret-keeper, and fast.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I see a couple people have taken note of this story, so thank you very much. Please review! As an added note, this story takes place in the United States (because I'm feeling too lazy to research other nations at the moment), so keep that in mind when reading.

* * *

**December 2nd **

_2:02 PM - Unknown: Meet at the Starbucks next to the school, 3:30? _

Mathias allowed a sigh to pass his lips. He didn't recognize the number that was texting him, but he had no doubt it was one of the others he had been with yesterday - actually, he wasn't especially close with any of them. He and Alfred got along well, and he had partied once with Arthur Kirkland, but that was about it.

_2:04 PM - Mathias Køhler: Who is this?_

_2:04 PM - Unknown: Haha. I guess you'll find out if you show up!_

_2:05 PM - Mathias Køhler: FINE. I'll be there._

_2:06 PM - Mathias Køhler: But this better not be-_

"Mr. Køhler. Is that your _cell phone? _In _class? _I'm afraid you'll have to hand it over. Get it after school is dismissed, alright?" The teacher's sharp voice jolted Mathias out of his little world.

"Ugh," Mathias grunted as the entire class snickered. That teacher had totally caught him texting under the desk. He looked at his classmates, wondering which one of them held his secret. And on top of it all - as if his day could get any worse - there went his phone.

｡｡｡｡｡

"Do you know who's coming?" Elizaveta asked.

"Non. I was so lost in your eyes, I couldn't keep track..." Francis trailed off seductively, and he and Elizaveta both laughed. The Hungarian used to be creeped out by Francis, but he wasn't nearly as bad as everyone made him out to be.

The door of the Starbucks opened, and Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland walked in, snow coating their jackets and light hair. The flakes had started falling just before school got out; barely any was sticking to the ground, but soon there would be a few inches.

"I am so glad you two could make it! I'm assuming you 'aven't"-

"Shut it," Arthur snapped warily. "We are guessing you want to talk about the secret-keepers, so let's hear it, then."

"No, no, we have to wait for the others," Elizaveta said. "Why don't you get something to drink and sit down?"

"What others?" Arthur growled, then his eyes widened. "Oh, did you invite... everyone?"

"All eight of us," Francis said.

Arthur frowned, reluctantly ordered a latte, and sat down with Elizaveta and Francis. Alfred got a brownie and scarfed it down while the others discussed the best course of action.

Antonio and Mathias arrived, but not together. Elizaveta remembered sending Mathias the texts earlier in the day, and he didn't seem surprised to see everyone gathered at a table in the near-empty Starbucks.

Mathias purchased three coffees without blinking an eye and drank them all at once. Apparently he had a high tolerance of caffeine, because he leaned back and said, "This stuff sucks. So, when do we get started?"

Once Matthew and Ivan arrived, Francis cleared his throat. "We 'ave to work at this methodically, or"-

"Wait," Mathias interrupted, "I never said I wanted to work with you all!"

"Fine," Ivan said. "Fine. Then leave. But do not come to us when you can't find your secret-keeper. We do not give a damn if your life is ruined, da?"

Mathias seemed to contemplate this, frowned, and said, "Okay. Okay, I'll stay."

"We have twenty-three days," Matthew said. "What should we do?"

"Well, we know the secret-keepers all attend our school... but we don't know which grade they all are in. Or they could be in different ones, you know," Arthur pointed out.

"Is everyone in alliance?" Elizaveta asked. "We won't give up until we all find our secret-keepers."

"I see no issue," Ivan said. "I will help - if you all help me. Do not abandon me, kolkolkol..."

"We should give it a nice name. Something that isn't dull, like the rest of you," Francis suggested, earning several indignant exclamations from the table.

"The Confidants' Club?" suggested Matthew timidly. The arguing at the table was halted for a moment, and a unanimous sound of agreement rose from the assembled teens. "Okay." "Si." "Oui." "Da."

"So that's settled," Elizaveta said, standing up to clap her hands. "How about we meet here again on Thursday? It'll be the fourth then; we should still have plenty of time." No objections met that statement, and everyone agreed it was time to go. But they all felt the knot loosen in their stomach, because though this would likely end in a terrible mess, at least they were not alone.

Ivan knew what his personal secret was. Of course he did - he wasn't stupid, nor did he feel particularly excited about the ordeal Gilbert's death was about to put him through. He knew it was Gilbert's choice to end his own life. But, still... Ivan came home to a dark house. He did every day. His father an alcoholic; his mother at work, terrified for herself, for her children. It was all wrong. That wasn't _his fault. _Neither was Gilbert's death. Well, not entirely. But if anyone deserved to be upset, wasn't it Ivan, because he had gone through so much and received so little, and he was the one who was still living, still dragging through every day?

Meanwhile, long after Starbucks, Francis, Alfred, Matthew, and Arthur were still hanging out. They already had suspects for who secret-keepers might be. They were not trusting people, not regarding this matter.

Elizaveta could not sleep. She swore she was going crazy. She sang herself Hungarian lullabies, chatted with her friend, Roderich, and listened to soothing music, but her nerves were shot. She couldn't stop picturing what would happen should her secret be announced - she would get expelled, no doubt, and perhaps arrested. What she did - what she _does - _seems extremely unexpected from a girl like her, and it was information she cradled close to her heart. No one knew. Gilbert had, and look where that got her. She finally took some painkillers and drifted into a nightmarish sleep.

**December 4th **

"'Ere's the list, and it's quite a long one."

"What list?" Alfred spoke over the din of the Starbucks, which had become a sort of unwritten meeting space for the Confidants' Club. Several people had come to the meeting prepared with accusations of believed secret-keepers, though no one had spoken to anyone yet.

Francis held up a sheet of printer paper. "It's a list of everyone who attended Gilbert's funeral. I highlighted all of the students attending our school, ninth through twelfth grades. So take a look at it."

Antonio visibly cringed. "Uh, uh, are you sure"-

"Antonio," Francis snapped at his friend, "we have to do this. Now, look at the list."

Quite truthfully, Elizaveta didn't remember seeing many of these people at the funeral, though that was probably due to the fact that she had been so miserable. She took a good look at the list - and she had a clue of who the culprits could be.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you for all of your input! I'm on a roll, updating so many stories today! Also, pay attention to the dates (in bold), or things might be a little confusing. The story began on December 1st, Monday. The funeral was a few weeks before, on November 15th. Oh, and please review!

* * *

**November 15th **

"I'm very, very sorry, Elizaveta. Truly, I didn't think"-

"No, it's okay, Frau Beilschmidt," Elizaveta replied, though in reality, there was no way this was okay. Gilbert was dead, and everyone was attending his funeral in the Beilschmidt's church. Elizaveta remembered that Gilbert always liked going to church because he believed in God, but he never liked wearing a tie.

Frau Beilschmidt rested her hand on Elizaveta's shoulder - a quick gesture - and said, "Dear, we're - you may say goodbye if you wish."

"Alright. Thank you, Frau Beilschmidt." Elizaveta walked over to the casket, holding back tears. But she was wearing heels that her mother had forced her to wear, and she tripped, landing just in front of Gilbert's body. His eyes were closed; his hair combed in a way he would have hated. Elizaveta licked her thumb and fixed his hair, just the way he'd want it to be. She finally cried.

Meanwhile, Antonio and Francis were chatting with Gilbert's parents.

"Do you two have any clue why he would do this? I know you were his best friends," Herr Beilschmidt said.

"I don't know," Francis replied. "Gilbert didn't seem unhappy - or, at least, he never mentioned anything like this to us."

Further back in the church, Alfred was doing something he rarely ever did - praying. It was appropriate for the location, and Alfred was an internal wreck. Sure, he and Gilbert had arguments sometimes, but maybe it was because their personalities were just too similar. Alfred had really cared for his little 'Prussian' friend.

At any rate, he was praying. _Dear God. Gilbert loves you, a lot, so please take care of him and keep him safe forever. _

Little had he known that he should have prayed for his own safety, too.

｡｡｡｡｡

**December 4th - The List, Continued **

Dubiously, Arthur read over the highlighted names on the list. "But aren't there other people at our school who didn't attend the funeral?"

Francis nodded. "Oh, most definitely. This is just an idea, 'owever, of a way we might be able to get started."

Mathias leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "Well, I say that Gilbert probably told people we're close to - don't you think?"

"No," Matthew said. "I don't truly believe that Gilbert would do something like this. Yes, of course we all made mistakes, but I don't think we were the ones who ruined his life. Do you all? Is this one secret really so important? You have to, um, look at the big picture. I'm sorry if I offend any of you, but our friend is dead, and he's never coming back. Ever. Isn't that just a little more important than any secret you may have?"

Silence, until Francis finally said, "He has a point."

"Of course he does," snapped Arthur. "But, Matthew, you're acting as if this is somehow our fault. I don't know how on earth my decisions influenced Gilbert to kill himself. Before you accuse others, look to yourself first."

Matthew's jaw dropped. "I never said"-

"Arguing accomplishes nothing," Elizaveta said. "Gilbert is dead. We have to move on." She meant to sound businesslike, but on the last word, her voice cracked, and she had to fight tears. She hated that Matthew was right - she hated that Gilbert was dead. Gilbert was young. She was reminded of a time when they were kids - they had been friends for a long time, mind you - around the age of six or seven, probably, and though his parents demanded them not to, they ran out into his driveway in the middle of a thunderstorm. He ran through the downpour, throwing his head back into the rain, and he had said, "Eliza, look, I'm indestructible."

She wished he really were indestructible. She wished this wasn't her fault somehow.

"You're spacing out," Antonio said to her, but not in a mean way. In a sympathetic way. Elizaveta nodded. She couldn't afford to lose it in the middle of a Starbucks.

"We can't just start accusing people out of the blue, though," Francis said. "We shouldn't just go down the line - we need to make accurate guesses, no?"

Elizaveta nodded. "Of course. Because imagine how much of a story this would be to everyone. Of course everyone knows Gilbert killed himself, but we're supposed to be his friends, right?"

"I thought we were," Matthew muttered.

"We are," corrected Antonio.

"If we were his friends, he would not be accusing us of causing his death," retorted Ivan. "Anyways, I am sure that if your secret is anything like mine, you did have something to do with his death. I am not denying that, though I can say that Gilbert's death has crushed me."

"What sort of thing did you do?" Francis exclaimed, his eyes widening.

"Yes, tell us," Arthur sneered.

Ivan curled his upper lip, revealing his teeth in a feral-like snarl. "I will tell you if you tell me what you did, Arthur."

"Now, hold on," Mathias exclaimed. Though he wasn't overjoyed with his current predicament, he didn't want to see a fight break out in the middle of a coffee shop. "Why don't we all just be honest with each other and share our secrets? We're probably all going to find them out anyways, and"-

"Fine, then, you start," Elizaveta said calmly, albeit a little coldly. Mathias could tell she was still trying to calm down.

"Hey, now, I don't want to be the only one saying anything!" Mathias protested. So the meeting of the Confidants' Club adjourned without much solution; they all agreed to meet on Saturday - the sixth - with a list of people they believed could be their secret-keepers.

**December 5th **

"Talk about what?" Matthew asked, tossing his sports bag over his shoulder and grabbing his hockey stick.

"Dear, we - we know you're awfully upset after Gilbert's death"- Matthew's mother began, but Matthew uncharacteristically cut her off. "No, Mom, I'm not upset. It's been two weeks - I'm fine. I have to get to practice. I missed drills on Monday."

"Matthew, listen to us," Mr. Williams said. "We're concerned for you. You've been behaving strangely this week."

Matthew ignored the urge to laugh bitterly. _Of course I'm upset. It's bad enough that Gilbert is dead; you don't even know about the note he left for us. _

Instead, Matthew said, "Okay, fine. But can we talk about this after practice?"

"Alright, sure," Mrs. Williams replied. Then, out of nowhere: "Honey, how are you doing in the United States?"

Matthew paused, half in surprise, his hand tightening around his hockey stick. His mother asked him this a lot the first year they moved to the US, back in eighth grade, but he hadn't heard the question in a while. "What? Mom, we've been here for four years. I'm doing okay. Really. I miss Canada, but... I guess this is home now, right?"

His mother smiled. "Yes, it is. Now, I need to get started on dinner. Have fun at practice, Mattie." She left the room, humming softly to herself.

Matthew grabbed his car keys off the counter. His car was an ancient, beat-up, already-used hunk of metal, but he adored it. It was reliable, and it was the first major thing he had bought for himself. "Dad, I really have to get going."

"I'm proud of you, Matthew," Mr. Williams said. "Have fun at practice." He too left the room, and Matthew frowned.

_Would you be so proud of me if you knew? Would you be so proud of me if you knew Gilbert's death... _

Shaking his head, Matthew walked outside to his car. He squinted through the rain, unsure if the drops he felt on his cheeks were those of rain or tears.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: [VERSION TWO] Warning. Homophobia here (not from me), but no offense is meant to anyone. I'm just trying to present it reasonably and respectfully. Oh, and just saying, August 25th is Belarus' National Day, so I suppose it's Natalia's birthday as well. If you're still reading, thank you, and please review!

* * *

**December 6th **

Ivan's guesses were fueled with logic, like many things he did. He first suspected Gilbert had told Natalia Arlovskaya, Ivan's not-so-secret (obnoxious) admirer, but then he concluded that, had Gilbert told Natalia, Natalia would probably refuse to share his secret on Christmas. She wouldn't want to see her love's life in ruins, would she?

His next guess was Katyusha Braginskaya, the Ukrainian who was a grade above him in school. But Katyusha would be leaving for college in a semester, and she probably had better things to do than deal with petty eleventh-grade underclassmen drama. Ivan had to remind himself that it wasn't just petty drama - someone was dead.

No one was really that excited to go back to Starbucks, so Antonio offered up his house as the Saturday meeting spot. Ivan hoped he had the address right and pulled into the driveway; he had borrowed his mother's car, as Antonio lived too far to walk.

Antonio was waiting in the kitchen, a copy of the Funeral List in front of him. He greeted people as they came in, offered them something to eat and drink, made sure everyone was comfortable. It was somewhat awkward - he wasn't very close with these people, except Francis - but he was a great host.

"Let's get started," Elizaveta said, taking a sip of water. "Um. Who wants to go first?"

"I had a theory," Francis offered. "Gilbert would tell people who 'ave something against us. Like someone you got in a fight with, and so on." He paused. "Though it could not have been too serious a fight, because if we find our secret-keeper, they have to keep our secret a _secret_. That's what Gilbert said, after all."

"That makes sense," Mathias replied. "My guess is that my secret-keeper is Lukas Bondevik or Berwald Oxenstierna."

"I think mine is Natalia Arlovskaya," Arthur finally said, and everyone turned to look at him.

Ivan blinked in surprise. "Natalia? Why?"

Arthur laughed sheepishly. "I... she hates me."

"She hates everyone," Alfred said. "Minus Ivan."

"That's true," Arthur said, "But, you see, right before Gilbert's funeral... she asked me to be her boyfriend."

There was stunned silence in the room, and Elizaveta finally said, "Are you joking? She asked you that? _You?" _

"Oh, great, what's that supposed to mean?" Arthur grunted.

Elizaveta blushed. "I mean, I thought she was only interested in Ivan. But if what you're saying is true, then there's probably a chance she's your secret-keeper."

Alfred laughed. "You all go about this the wrong way. Why don't we just read her e-mails and see if she talks about Arthur's secret at all?"

"You can't just read someone's e-mails," snorted Arthur. "We don't know how to read them."

"You mean you can't read, Iggy?" Alfred asked, much too innocently.

"No, you bloody git! I mean, we don't know how to get into her damn e-mail account, obviously."

"Ha, ha, ha! You freaking losers! Antonio, where's your computer?" Alfred laughed.

Antonio and Francis exchanged confused looks, until the former stood up and said, "I'll go get my laptop, I guess."

Alfred brought up Gmail and typed in Natalia's e-mail (with the help of Ivan) and stared at the screen for a second.

"This is idiotic. You're not going to be able to read anything without a password!" Arthur snapped. "Or do you intend to just stare at the screen all day?"

"Shut up," Alfred said. "Okay. Hmm. Ivan..." He typed that into the 'password' bar. "She's probably got her birthday in there, too. When's her birthday? It's August twenty-fifth? Okay. Knowing her, she put one other detail in there, too. Belarus? No, no..." Alfred was muttering to himself while the others stared on in fascination. "Give me a few minutes, okay?"

Matthew's face paled while Alfred worked on Natalia's password. "If Gilbert emailed Natalia about Arthur's secret, you know what that means?"

"That she's his secret-keeper?" snorted Mathias from across the table.

"No. Well, yes, but also, it means that Natalia knew Gilbert was going to kill himself and didn't do anything about it. And what does that say about her, really?" the Canadian bit his lip nervously, wondering if the group would agree.

"I mean, we already knew she was a psycho bitch," Mathias murmured. "But that's true. Very true."

"I got in!" Alfred laughed. "Finally. Password was 'Ivan25knife'."

"Bloody hell," Arthur whispered. "That was... amazing, actually."

"How the heck did you do that?" Mathias exclaimed, his eyes wide. "Fascinating. Really."

"I'll search her Outbox; see if she ever emailed Gilbert," Alfred said, scrolling down, typing something into a Search Bar. "Wow, Ivan, she sure emails you a lot."

Ivan chuckled. "And I never respond."

"How rude. Just kidding. Oh, hey, I found something - Beilschmidt - wait, that's from Ludwig." Alfred was scrolling furiously, tapping the keys with such vigor that the others in the room could practically hear the wheels turning in his (smarter than they thought) brain. "I found an email from Gilbert!" Alfred called triumphantly. Antonio, who was sitting to the right of the American, raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah. It's titled 'Secrets'. Okay, I'll open the original email from Gilbert." Alfred paused, scanning over the email, and-

"What?" demanded Arthur.

Alfred slammed the laptop shut, looking nauseous. "N-nothing. It's nothing. I'm going home. I'll see you guys later, okay? Bye."

The room was silent. "What just happened?" Francis laughed nervously once everyone heard the front door crashing shut. Antonio opened his laptop, typed in his password, and looked over the email. His green eyes widened. "Oh my. Turns out Natalia is a secret-keeper, but not of Arthur's secret... of Alfred's."

Arthur tilted his head to one side, his eyebrows furrowed. "What?" he asked again.

"What is the secret?" Matthew asked quietly, adjusting his glasses.

"Well," Antonio said. "It seems our friend Alfred is gay."

｡｡｡｡｡

Alfred was fuming. He got into his car as fast as humanly possible and sped away, tears blurring his vision. Tears of rage, to be precise. How _dare _Gilbert threaten to even tell anyone that secret? Alfred knew he was being shallow, but all he could think was: _If anyone finds out, my reputation is shot. Fuck you, Gilbert! I never should have told you._

Oh, sure, his close friends would accept him, he knew, and he was grateful for that. And he knew that nowadays, being gay was becoming less and less uncommon, and part of society wouldn't mind. But his parents... his parents were what you would call 'slightly homophobic.' Slightly times ten.

Alfred had trusted Gilbert. What a mistake. Ugh. The only thought that calmed him was the knowledge that all he had to do was confront Natalia about this... incident, and his secret would go with her to the grave. Hopefully. But the other members of The Confidants' Club - they probably all knew now, and they weren't under any vows of silence. Alfred only wished they would treat him courteously and keep their mouths shut. Because if they didn't, well. Things were going to get ugly - with him, with them, with his parents.

But, dear readers, I suppose such is life.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Since you're reading, I suppose you survived Friday the 13th on a full moon, huh? Okay, so, I am highly unversed in law, punishment, etc., especially regarding suicide, so if I have any incorrect details about how the post-suicide process is carried out, I apologize. Please read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

**December 6th **

"Well, it seems our friend Alfred is gay."

Antonio's statement was met with several different reactions, ranging from childish to appropriate to shocking. Francis simply snickered - which earned him a smack upside the head from Arthur - and Elizaveta had to hide a smile. She wondered what glorious scenes would happen with Alfred around, and reminded herself that now was no time to start fangirling. Especially with all the emotions on the line. Ivan's face was twisted with revulsion, and he simply spat, "Disgusting."

"Now, that's no way to speak," Antonio said quietly. "I know it's true that the first of our secrets have been revealed, but all Alfred must do is speak with Natalia, and hopefully things will be cleared up. We will certainly not talk about this, si?"

"Okay," grumbled Mathias. "Could I see the computer?"

"Sure." Antonio pushed the laptop towards the Dane.

"Read it," Ivan ordered.

"Fine. 'Natalia Arlovskaya,'" Mathias began.

_Natalia Arlovskaya,  
__As you obviously know, this is the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt. I'm sure you weren't expecting that. Anyways, I have emailed you to discuss important matters. Please reply when you get this. It is of utmost urgency, and I need a response preferably sooner rather than later. Danke. _

"She replied. She said 'fine,'" Mathias added. He paused. "Okay, let me find his second response. Here it is."

_Natalia, thank you for your swift reply. I would like to talk about Alfred Jones. It is to my knowledge that you are a trustworthy person, and I need you to do me a favor, which you previously agreed to. Alfred Jones is gay. No one knows this except me and anyone else he may have told, though I suspect he doesn't want very many people to know. Since you have been entrusted with this information, I need you to KEEP IT A SECRET. If Alfred does not confront you about this discussion by Christmas, you may share it with whomever you please. But if he does ask about it before Christmas, it shall remain a secret forever, and you must give him the letter I lent you. I trust you.  
-Gilbert Beilschmidt  
_

"She didn't know," Mathias said, almost sounding giddy. "She didn't know! Oh, this is a relief."

"Didn't know what?" snapped Francis. "Because it seems to me she knows quite a bit. Is that the email in its entirety?"

"Ja," Mathias replied. "It is. I mean, he didn't say anything about killing himself in the letter. He just told Natalia what he wanted done; what he needed from her. She probably didn't know he was going to do it! It's very promising."

"Because this is such a promising situation," snarked Arthur. "Mathias, you"-

"Shut up, Arthur. Could you read that last sentence again?" Elizaveta asked.

"'I trust you'?"

"No, before that."

"Wh - oh! Gilbert said there was supposed to be a letter for Alfred, if he could figure out she was the secret-keeper," Mathias said. "He must have given it to Natalia."

"Do you think he wrote all of us letters, too?" Matthew asked.

"Well," Mathias sighed. "I guess there's only one way to find out. My house, tomorrow?"

｡｡｡｡｡

Gathering up his courage, Alfred knocked on the door. A woman answered, probably in her early forties, with light blonde hair and an apron tied around her waist. She smiled pleasantly. "Hello, dear. Who are you?" She had an accent, much like Natalia's, but a lot thicker than her daughter's.

"I'm Alfred Jones. I'm a... classmate of Natalia's. Is she home? I was wondering if I could have a word with her." Alfred knew it was vital to sound polite if he wanted to have any shot of waltzing into a near-stranger's house and chatting up their teenage daughter.

"She is. I'll tell her a friend is here. Why don't you have a seat in the kitchen? Would you like something to drink?"

"No thank you."

"Okay. If you need anything, just ask, sweetie. Natalia! Where are you?" Mrs. Arlovskaya disappeared down the hall, and Alfred sat at the kitchen table, tapping his foot on the tile floor nervously.

Natalia emerged a moment later, an eyebrow raised. "Alfred Jones. This is a surprise." But the way she said it sounded like _You finally found it out, huh? _

"I think you know why I'm here."

"I do." Natalia sat down across from the American. "To which I say... nice job. Props to you, figuring this out. How did you manage?"

Alfred considered his words. Natalia seemed calm and somewhat pleasant, but he felt like talking with her was comparable to dancing in a minefield. Who knew what would set her off? "Um, deductive reasoning." As if.

"Very well." Natalia licked her lips. "I know you think I'm crazy, but I'd like to reassure you, I did promise Gilbert that if you talked to me about this, I'd keep it a secret. I won't tell anyone, I swear. Okay?"

"Thank you," said Alfred. "Really."

"He left a letter for you." Natalia handed him an envelope with 'Alfred' marked on the side. "Did you know he was going to do it?" she asked suddenly. "Kill himself, I mean."

"Of course not," Alfred recoiled, taking the letter from her. "Did you?"

"No. I didn't see it coming. He sent me an email, and looking back, I suppose the tone was ominous, but I didn't think..." Natalia faltered. "I should have said something. I should have called him, or read into his words more. I should have stopped him."

"We all should have. No sense beating yourself up over it." Alfred sighed. "Well, thank you. Very much. I'm going to go now."

"Okay. Thanks for stopping by, I guess." Natalia grinned. "Tell Ivan I said hi."

**December 7th**

"Alfred, Francis is here to see you!" Mrs. Jones called to her son. "Come downstairs!"

_I wasn't expecting Francis. Oh God, what does he want? He'll probably want to 'play' or something... I know his kind... _Alfred trudged reluctantly down the stairs. Though it was silly, he was relieved he looked pretty un-hot at that moment. He was wearing jeans, mismatched socks, and an old CANADA sweatshirt of Matthew's. You know, the red ones that have the huge white maple leaf on the front. It was a long story.

"Does everyone know?" Alfred asked once his parents left the room.

"Oui. They read the email."

Alfred buried his head in his hands. "Shit. How did they react?"

"Mon ami, why are you worried about this? How do you expect they all would react?"

"Um. I think they'd all be okay with it. Maybe Ivan wouldn't, because you know how he can be, but-"

"Exactly right," Francis said. "Ivan's opinion is only one opinion, and we all promised not to tell. Anyways, I came by to tell you The Confidants' Club is meeting at Mathias' house. You did not hear the news, I suppose, so you should come with me now."

"Um, no. Dude, I'd rather just spend my last day of the weekend at home playing video games and eating. No more secrets."

Francis patted his friend's shoulder. "You have to help us. All the silly little idiots who still can't figure out their secret-keepers. And for the record, everyone was impressed when you hacked into Natalia's email. I bet you get it from your father, non? Programming and hacking technology in your blood. We're still your friends, Alfred. Ivan may take some convincing, but he'll come around. You don't need to be worried."

Alfred grinned. Though he wouldn't admit it, that old French-speaking, wine-guzzling, British-hating bastard always knew just what to say.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hello again! I have been working on this story quite a bit, actually. Please review and enjoy, and I hope to see you next chapter!

* * *

**December 7th**

"So, we're all here," Arthur said. "Thanks for offering up your house, Mathias. Oh, it's nice to see you, Alfred."

Alfred flinched, thinking his friend was mocking him, but Arthur's emerald eyes were surprisingly warm and supportive. Thank goodness for great friends, Alfred thought. _My parents, though... I'll worry about that later._

"Oh! Wait," Alfred said. "I went over to Natalia's house yesterday, to ask about the - the secret, and she gave me a letter."

"What does it say?" Antonio prompted.

"I'll open it now." Alfred produced the envelope from his pocket and tore it open, unfolding the sheet of paper. "Oh, yeah, Gil definitely wrote this. _'So, Alfred, you figured it out_,'" began Alfred.

_"'You're probably wondering how you contributed to my death. I know you're thinking that your love life shouldn't have concerned mine at all - unless I loved you as more than a friend, which I did not. However, in order to put these pieces together, you'll need to find the other people's secrets. Now, of course I don't know what you're doing, but I hope you're working with the others. It will make this so much easier. If you are, here's a hint: I did NOT send information to any of the other secret-keepers via email. That should help you a lot - or maybe not. Hell, I how would I know? Anyways, Alfred, you were a good friend. I know you need closure, and I'd be an even more terrible person than I already am if I didn't say this: I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean much; it's practically useless at this point, but it's an apology, after all. I'm not regretful of my choices - both suicide and the ordeal I'm putting you through with this whole secret business - but I'm sorry. Find the other notes if you want to know why this happened to you, and remember: You and I, Alfred, we're just alike. Most sincerely, Gilbert Beilschmidt.'"_

Ivan frowned. "So, it's like a puzzle. The notes he left behind with our secret-keepers have answers. Perhaps once we find them, we'll have a proper note. Unfortunately, he said he didn't email the other secret-keepers, so we'll have to figure those out by ourselves. And he said you two are just alike, huh. Any other topics of discussion?"

"Don't forget, the Winter Soirée is this Friday!" Elizaveta exclaimed, decidedly off-track of the discussion. The Winter Soirée was tradition at their school, occurring on the second to last Friday of the First Semester, a week before Holiday Break. Every grade could attend except for ninth grade, so it would be Elizaveta and the others' second time going, as everyone in The Confidant's Club was in the eleventh grade. Despite the events at hand, Elizaveta was excited. "Who's going to the Soirée? What are you guys wearing?" she asked enthusiastically.

"Your feminine side is showing," Mathias remarked.

"No one cares about the stupid Soirée," snorted Alfred.

"It's not stupid! It's lots of fun, but I don't have a date. Oh, well. I'll just go with Mei and Michelle and we'll have fun. I can't believe we're eleventh graders already! Will you guys bring your cameras? Are we friendly enough that we could take a group photo or is that"-

"Enough!" Arthur barked. "Elizaveta, if I take you to the Soirée, will you shut up?"

"Oh? Well, of course!" Elizaveta smiled pleasantly. _Yes! I have a date! So he's not exactly ideal, but... _

Francis snickered. "Wow, Arthur. You must be kinder to women! Your manner of speech must be eloquent, graceful"- this statement was met with the sound of Arthur's paperback novel colliding with the Frenchman's face.

"Arthur! Francis! Shut up for a moment," Mathias said, clearing his throat. "As I've said before, I'm pretty sure my secret-keeper is Lukas Bondevik. I know he works at the Café Italia in the mall, so I plan to confront him during one of his shifts. Anyone care to join me?"

Arthur shrugged, having retrieved his book from the floor, and said, "Sure. I will. How about we go there tomorrow after school?"

Mathias nodded. "Sounds good. I know he works Mondays. Well, guys, we'll let you know how it goes!"

｡｡｡｡｡

"Hey, Ivan," Alfred began, calling to his friend. The meeting had dismissed. Arthur and Mathias were going to the Café Italia on Monday, and everyone else was going to start dropping hints towards people they suspected might be their secret-keepers. Things were going smoothly. Well...

Ivan paused a few feet away from his mother's car and turned slowly. "Yes, what is it?" The Russian's voice was controlled but dangerously distant and frosty.

"Um, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Is that not what you are doing right now?"

"Well, it is, but - dude, why are you looking at me like that?" Ivan's violet eyes were unresponsive. Alfred shivered. The bitter-cold December day was nothing compared to the chills he got from Ivan's glare. Sure, Ivan had a reputation for intimidating people, but he never scared _Alfred. _

"I don't wish to speak to you from now on, Alfred. I trust that you understand why, da?"

Alfred took a step closer to Ivan. "That is ridiculous. Man, you're being crazy. I'm still me, y'know? You don't have to treat me differently."

Ivan's face was unsympathetic. "Listen, Alfred. They may be fine with it, but that does not mean I have to be fine with it. My parents raised me with good morals. I don't approve of your personal choices. That is not my business; nor is it my place to tell you what you can and cannot do, but it does not mean I must interact with you from now on. Do you understand?"

Alfred's eyes flashed with hurt. "O-oh, yeah? Well, fine. I don't wanna talk to you, either!" He turned on his heel and stormed off, gripping his car keys so tightly that when he loosened his grip, the jagged metal had cut into his skin.

**December 8th**

The smell of coffee and pastries greeted Mathias and Arthur. Both of the boys inhaled deeply, relaxing. They happened to share a fondness for coffee, and who in their right mind would turn down desserts? Café Italia was a warm little coffeehouse at the mall, located between a candy shop and a bookstore. Feliciano Vargas, a classmate of Mathias and Arthur's, was standing at the counter, waiting for customers. The Vargas family ran the café, so Feliciano often helped out.

The café was empty. Beautiful origami snowflakes were attached to the walls, and a fake glittering Christmas tree stood in the back of the room. White lights and red ornaments adorned it. The scene was breathtaking.

"Arthur! Mathias! Good to finally get some business, ve. What would you two like?" Feliciano called, waving. His black apron was lopsided and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows.

Arthur sighed and reached for his wallet. "I guess I'll get a latte..."

Mathias snorted at his almost-friend. "Nothing for me. Is Lukas Bondevik here?"

Feliciano looked puzzled. "He is. Do you want to speak with him?"

"Yes, please, if it isn't too much trouble."

"Okay! I'll go get him. And I'll get your latte, Arthur. Just a minute!" Feliciano chorused, heading to the back of the café.

The bells hanging above the entrance door rattled, and Mathias turned slightly.

He was met with a slight surprise - Natalia Arlovskaya and Lovino Vargas had arrived at the café, both with the usual scowl plastered across their features. Mathias had to force himself to act normally. After all, Natalia probably had no clue whatsoever that Mathias had his own secret - she had only been the keeper of Alfred's - and Gilbert had said that the secret-keepers weren't operating as a group.

Arthur's face paled, and Mathias very distinctly saw him mouth the word _shit. _

Natalia walked up to the counter. "Excuse me," she said with great impatience.

"What?" Arthur stammered. "I- I know I re-rejected you, b-but that doesn't m-mean you need to h-hunt me down"-

"I meant move out of the way so I can order some damn coffee," Natalia growled. "Is that a bit easier for you to understand? Where's the staff?"

Arthur sighed in relief. "Oh. Right. Sorry, Feliciano was here a second ago, but he's doing me a favor"-

"The fuck do you need with my fratello?" Lovino barked from behind Mathias. "My mother sent me here to get him to come home, so you better not be making trouble."

"We have to speak with Lukas Bondevik. He also works here," replied Mathias icily, coming to Arthur's rescue. "It's really not any of your concern." Though everyone there was in the same class at the same school, they weren't particularly close, and the situation was tense.

"Mathias."

Mathias jumped, surprised, and saw Lukas standing there. The Norwegian looked frustrated, but his voice was calm. "If you needed to talk with me about something, couldn't you have done so at school?"

"No! Well, I could have, but..." Mathias trailed off helplessly.

Natalia snorted. "Whatever. I'll just go to Starbucks. What a pain." The Belarusian exited the coffeehouse, muttering in her native language. Lovino sighed loudly. "Feli, Mamma wants you home soon. Came by to tell you that. Now, I guess I'm going to fucking Starbucks with Natalia. Che palle!" The older Vargas left as well, cursing to himself.

"Eh? Lukas, do you think you can handle the rest of the shift by yourself?" Feliciano asked.

Lukas grunted. "Yes, sure. I don't think today's going to be a very busy day."

"That's a shame, no? Well, I'll see you tomorrow," Feliciano said. He followed his brother out the exit, humming cheerfully.

Mathias exhaled in relief. Finally, it was just him, Lukas, and Arthur. "Can I talk to you now?"

Lukas scanned the deserted café. "Obviously no customers are coming to my rescue, so go ahead. I'll be cleaning, but I'm listening."

"Okay. Great." Mathias considered his words, then said, "We need to talk about Gilbert Beilschmidt."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Fudge, this chapter was difficult to write - I only hope it was worth it! Please review and enjoy! Also, could you tell me what your favorite heterosexual pairings are?

* * *

**December 8th**

_"We need to talk about Gilbert Beilschmidt." _

Lukas paused, staring at the counter. "Yes, why?"

"Did he mention anything about... about a secret?" Mathias asked. "Before he died, I mean. Did he talk about something like that?"

"A secret?" Lukas questioned. "Yes, but not to me."

"Then to whom?" Arthur asked.

Lukas sighed. "My little brother, Emil - he's in the ninth grade at our school - for a little while after Gilbert killed himself, he kept talking about a secret, and kept mentioning Gilbert's name. I didn't understand. I wasn't paying him very much attention, either. Why? Was this something important?"

Arthur and Mathias exchanged hopeful looks. "It's nothing," Mathias said. "Thank you. Thank you very much! Okay, Arthur, you got your latte, let's go. See you tomorrow, Lukas!" The two teens scurried out of the coffeehouse, leaving a very confused Norwegian at the counter.

**December 9th **

_9:15 AM - Alfred Jones: Hey, you never told me how meeting up w/ Lukas went._

_9:16 AM - Arthur Kirkland: You shouldn't text during class, y'know._

_9:16 AM - Alfred Jones: ...it's PRE-CALCULUS. I'm not missing anything. Lucky you, you're in Spanish._

_9:17 AM - Arthur Kirkland: Yeah, SO lucky. Anyways, you know Lukas' younger brother, right?_

_9:18 AM - Alfred Jones: Eli? Edward?_

_9:18 AM - Arthur Kirkland: Emil. He's in the ninth grade. He's one of the secret-keepers._

_9:19 AM - Alfred Jones: Mathias'?_

_9:20 AM - Arthur Kirkland: No, we don't know whose secret Emil is keeping._

_9:21 AM - Arthur Kirkland: Hello?_

_9:22 AM - Alfred Jones: I'm here, I'm here. Just have to make sure the teach doesn't see my phone. Anyways, what're you gonna do about it?_

_9:23 AM - Arthur Kirkland: Mathias is going to talk to Emil today during lunch. A step in the right direction, at least._

｡｡｡｡｡

"And then, I was just like, uh, no - Elizaveta, are you okay?"

Elizaveta blinked in surprise, setting her spoon down. She smiled at Michelle. "Oh, yes, I'm fine. Go on."

"No way," Michelle said. "Something weird is going on with you. You're not even eating your lunch - spill!"

"Nothing weird," protested Elizaveta, taking a sip of her soup to get Michelle off her back.

"Uh-huh," Michelle replied suspiciously, turning to Mei. "What do you think?"

Mei giggled. "Oh, definitely. You're acting strangely, Eliza."

Elizaveta decided to try something. "Fine, you guys. Can I tell you... a secret?" She glanced at her friends' faces, trying to gauge their reactions, but both Michelle and Mei looked concerned and serious. Elizaveta sighed. "Nevermind, guys. Just eat your lunch and quit worrying about me."

Meanwhile, across the lunchroom, a different group of friends was chatting. Raivis Galante, Lilli Zwingli, Im Yong Soo, and Emil Steilsson. The four ninth graders were sitting at their usual corner table, having a spirited conversation about whether or not underwear was an appropriate gift to give someone for Christmas. Lilli said that no, it was not, but Yong Soo was holding his own in the argument. "Well," the Korean finally huffed, "I would appreciate underwear for Christmas."

Emil rolled his eyes, stabbing his salad with a fork. "Oh, of course you would!"

"Hey. Emil. I need to talk to you."

Emil glanced up, surprised to see Mathias Køhler standing by his lunch table, arms crossed.

"Uh-oh," Yong Soo whispered to Raivis. "Upperclassman alert."

Despite Emil's cool exterior, he felt pretty nervous. He did not want to say the wrong thing to an upperclassman, especially one as well-known and popular as Mathias. "D-did I do something?"

"More like did Gilbert Beilschmidt do something," Mathias replied, and the Icelandic's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, what?"

"You're a secret-keeper," Mathias said.

"Yes?" Emil replied, more of a question than a statement. "But... it's - I - you aren't even friends with him!" The poor ninth grader looked absolutely lost. So did his friends.

"Eight of us," Mathias said quietly. "Eight of you. Now, whose secret have you been keeping for the dead man?"

Emil was so bewildered that he blurted out, "Ivan Braginsky."

Now his friends were definitely concerned. Raivis was trembling, probably at the mention of 'the I-word', and Yong Soo looked like he was on the verge of saying something terribly rude.

Mathias took a step back, seemingly disappointed. He bit his lower lip, nodding slowly. "Ivan. I see. Thank you, Emil. You're going to be talking to him soon, so prepare yourself. You know that once Ivan says something to you, you aren't allowed to say anything."

"Wait," Emil said, standing up as Mathias began to walk away. "How do you know all of this?"

Mathias chuckled. "Well, kid, my name's out in the void somewhere, too." With that, he walked out of the lunchroom, on the hunt for Ivan. The Dane passed Matthew, who was entering the cafeteria, and nodded a hello to him, but didn't stop to chat. Matthew dipped his head in return and scanned the room for a vacant seat. He settled for an empty spot at a table currently occupied by Alfred, Arthur, and Kiku Honda.

Matthew wanted to ask if Arthur had any information on Lukas, but he didn't dare with Kiku there. Instead, he said, "Hey, guys."

"Hello, Matthew," Kiku said politely. Arthur repeated the message, smiling, and Alfred grunted. Matthew had to do a double-take.

His friend looked like hell.

Arthur seemed to notice Matthew staring and mouthed, _Ivan. _

"Ah." Matthew sat down uncomfortably, slinging his bag over the back of his chair. "So..." A few moments of awkward silence.

Kiku stood up. "I apologize," he said. "I'm afraid I must leave early. Thank you for allowing me to sit with you."

"No problem. See you in Art History," Arthur said, waving good-bye. Once Kiku was out of earshot, Arthur turned to Alfred. "You need to snap out of this. Is this your plan for the rest of your life? Hide the truth inside and grumble whenever you have to socialize?"

"Actually, my plans were more along the lines of fleeing to Alaska and becoming an Eskimo," Alfred mumbled dejectedly.

"Nonsense! You needn't-"

"Shut up," Alfred hissed. "Please, Arthur, just be _quiet." _

"Don't kill yourself over it," Matthew said.

Arthur and Alfred both snapped to attention. Alfred opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking indignant, and Arthur said, "Was that your idea of a bad joke?"

"N-no!" Matthew gasped. "Of course not! It's just... um... I know Gilbert..."

Alfred looked perplexed. "What are you talking about?"

Matthew took a deep breath. "Gilbert was gay, too, you know. That's one of the reasons he killed himself. Do you understand? He couldn't live with himself."

The color drained from Alfred's face and his breath hitched. "Fuck. I'm going to be sick..."

"What?!" Arthur blurted, setting down his tea. "What are you talking about? How do you know this?"

"That's my secret," Matthew said, so quietly that Arthur and Alfred were straining to hear him. "That's the thing he's holding over my head. The fact that he asked me out and I rejected him. That's how I know, okay? I'm sorry I didn't say yes. I'm sorry I'm straight. _I'm sorry I didn't save his life!"_

"'You and I, we're just alike,'" whispered Alfred, quoting Gilbert's letter. He seemed to be in a daze, his blue eyes staring vacantly into space. "I see now."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: There will be some canon pairings in this story, but a lot of the pairings will be circumstantial to the story. Hey, maybe you'll discover a new OTP - or not. Also, I know I've been focusing a ton on Alfred and his relations with others (cough, Ivan), but I think after this chapter or the next one I'll move onto other people's stories more.

* * *

**December 9th **

Mathias glanced at his watch. Okay, he still had a half hour before class began, and the halls were mostly empty due to the fact that everyone was at lunch, but it was still going to take a while to find Ivan. He hadn't been in the cafeteria, and Mathias had no idea what his schedule was. Huh. Mathias knew that unless he searched the school methodically, it would take way more than thirty minutes to scour all three floors of the school and countless classrooms. Inspired, he pulled out his phone. Solution: Text Alfred.

_12:09 PM - Mathias Køhler: Alfred, do you have Ivan's number?_

_12:10 PM - Alfred Jones: Sure. I'll send it to you, then I'm deleting his contact. Thanks for reminding me. _

Mathias cringed. That wasn't really what he had meant to imply, and he felt pretty bad for Alfred. Mathias had chemistry with Alfred and Ivan, and the two friends sat on completely different sides of the room, occasionally glaring at each other. Tough. A second later, Ivan's number appeared on Mathias' screen. Mathias called Ivan, hoping he would answer.

"Hello?"

Mathias laughed in relief. "Hey, hey. It's Mathias. I've got some big news for you."

"Which would be?" Ivan questioned. "Is it about your trip to the Café Italia yesterday?"

Mathias nodded, then realized Ivan couldn't see him. "Yes, actually. Lukas isn't my secret-keeper. In fact, he isn't even one at all. But Emil Steilsson, Lukas' younger brother... well, he's yours."

Mathias heard Ivan sigh, though he wasn't sure if it was a breath of relief, fear, or regret. Maybe all three. "Alright, I'll go talk to him. Is he in the cafeteria?"

"Yeah, but"- Mathias began, debating whether to say anything on Alfred's behalf, when the line clicked dead.

｡｡｡｡｡

Alfred was staring at the clock on the cafeteria wall, ignoring the dull roar of classmates chattering around him, and watched the time tick forward to 12:15. Arthur and Matthew were making small talk across the table, throwing worried glances in his direction every so often. Alfred snorted. They honestly thought he couldn't see them.

Matthew, who was facing the door, paused. Alfred lifted his head and turned, trying to glimpse what Matthew was focusing on, when he saw Ivan standing in the doorway, peering around the lunchroom. A puzzled look crossed Ivan's face. Alfred frowned. Ivan rarely ate lunch in the cafeteria. He said it was because he couldn't stand listening to all the idiotic people there, and he also wanted to avoid Natalia.

"What are you two staring"- Arthur broke off. "I wonder why he's here."

"I need to talk to him," Alfred hissed, standing up.

"Alfred, wait," Matthew called, but Alfred paid no attention.

Ivan was so distracted that he didn't notice until Alfred stopped a few feet in front of him.

"We need to talk," fumed Alfred.

"No. I'm busy," Ivan replied curtly. "We have said everything there is to say. I have something I need to do."

"I think I know what you did," Alfred growled quietly. "Dude, you're one sick bastard. You knew about Gilbert, right? And I don't know exactly what you did, but it was because Gilbert was... was like me, right?"

The look of disdain disappeared from Ivan's eyes, replaced with confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow, his aggressive approach gone. "What are you talking about?" he parroted, equally confused.

"What do you mean, what am I talking about?" Ivan challenged, raising his chin. Not that he had to; he was already several inches taller than Alfred (and most people). "You're the one who ran up to me with some accusation. I've no clue what you're squealing about."

"The fact that Gilbert was gay!" Alfred exclaimed.

A flicker of shock crossed Ivan's face. "I did not know that, Alfred," Ivan said, slowly and with obvious effort. "But that has nothing to do with my secret. Now, now, you were Gilbert's friend, weren't you? His very good friend."

Alfred was silent. He nodded, unsure of where the conversation was going.

"Surely you noticed that his arms were always bruised, didn't you?"

Another nod. More silence.

"Well, well." Ivan smirked. "That was my doing, thank you very much."

_My heart is still beating, isn't it? Isn't it? What the hell is going on? _

"I cannot let this get out, though. It would ruin my reputation," continued Ivan. "Hurting living people - well, that's one thing. Having a history of hurting someone who ultimately ending up committing suicide? We would have an issue there."

Alfred's mouth was opening and closing like a mounted fish. Finally, he choked out, "Why?"

"Oh?" Amusement lit up Ivan's face. "Because it was fun. He hated me, I hated him. It was a game."

"A game?" Alfred roared. He was dimly aware that the cafeteria had faded into silence, and everyone was watching. The air was tense, and a couple of people were whispering; some were wondering what was going on, others were hoping for a fight to break out. "You sadistic Communist! You had the nerve to lecture me about good morals when your father is a drunken alcoholic and you used to spend every day of your pathetic life tormenting-"

A swift punch to the jaw got Alfred to shut up. Ivan's face contorted with absolute rage. The bloodthirsty crowd's whispers became an uproar. Alfred stood there in stunned silence for a moment, a hand to his throbbing mouth. In a split second, he hurled himself at Ivan, absolutely ready to tear that stupid psycho apart, when he felt someone grab him.

"Alfred!" Mathias whispered, holding the American back. "Please, calm down. I was eavesdropping on the conversation you had with Ivan. Yes, he deserves to get the shit beaten out of him, and yes, I'll let you do that later if you want. But right now, you've got bigger issues." The Scandinavian seemed to vanish out of nowhere, leaving Alfred with a silent audience, a raging Russian and - oh, crap. Herr Bauer, the German teacher and (strict) lunchroom monitor, was approaching, his eye twitching. Alfred did indeed have bigger problems than dealing revenge to Ivan.

"Braginsky! Jones! Don't even bother explaining yourselves. Principal's office. Now," he ordered.

"Es tut mir leid, Herr Bauer," Ivan said, and Alfred remembered - with a pang of jealousy - that his, um, former friend took German and Herr Bauer heavily favored Ivan during class. Alfred took Spanish, and Herr Bauer probably knew him as a loudmouth who often got into petty trouble. The irritable teacher was already ushering Alfred out of the room for a visit to the school authorities (ugh), but Alfred spared the cafeteria one last glance.

Matthew and Arthur were staring at him in disbelief, a mixture of concern and awe. Alfred mouthed a quick apology to them. To his immense surprise, he found himself seeking out Natalia Arlovskaya. She was sitting near the back of the eleventh grade section, but she met his eyes. The Belarusian flashed him a quick smile, showing all her teeth, and Alfred had no doubt she had an idea of what the fight had been about.

A few moments after leaving the cafeteria behind, Alfred took the time to consider Gilbert. _First of all, if he wanted to destroy us after he killed himself, he's succeeding so far. I can't believe was gay. I can't believe he didn't say anything about it! No, more importantly, I can't believe he didn't say anything about Ivan..._

"Jones," snapped Herr Bauer. "Quit spacing out. Wait outside of the office with Ivan. I'll be right back."

"I should not have done that," Ivan said once Herr Bauer was out of earshot.

"Too late for regrets," Alfred laughed bitterly.

Ivan seemed in good spirits. An entertained smile favored his lips. "That wasn't an apology."

Alfred grinned in response. A friendly, drunken grin that covered up venom and hurt. "Never said it was."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So many people are reading this story... thank you! Please review and I hope you enjoy this chapter! (Side note: December 9th is turning into one hell of a long day...)

* * *

**December 9th **

"Hey, where is everyone?" Mathias asked. He invited The Confidants' Club back to his house, mainly hoping he could calm everyone down (specifically Alfred and Ivan), because people were starting to lose patience with each other. Not good, since there were still six secret-keepers to find, and only fifteen days left. Only Antonio, Francis, Elizaveta, and Arthur had shown up.

"Mathieu has hockey on Mondays," Francis said. "Oh, and also, Ivan and Alfred are serving detention for a fight." He paused. "What fight, though? I wasn't in the cafeteria when whatever it was happened."

Arthur snorted. "They were venting their anger. Alfred's upset, Ivan's upset - it's not a good combination."

"Right. What was their punishment?" Mathias asked.

"Three days of detention for them both," Arthur replied. "Pretty light sentence. Herr Bauer wanted Alfred suspended, but I guess he got off easy."

"Well, good for them." Mathias seemed like he was considering his words. "Actually, as I was leaving school, Ivan told me he talked to Emil, and things are fine with him."

Antonio looked confused. "Wait, what? Who's Emil?"

Mathias quickly explained the tip Lukas had given him and the connection between Emil and Ivan. Elizaveta gasped, her hands to her mouth. "No way!"

"Sigh," Antonio said. Mathias raised an eyebrow. The Spaniard hadn't sighed, he'd literally said the word 'sigh'. "What's wrong? Do you want something to eat?"

"No, no." Antonio smiled, but everyone could tell it was forced, unlike his usual carefree expression. "I just... I'm wondering how Gilbert selected the secret-keepers, you know? It seems completely uncalled for. Natalia Arlovskaya and Alfred Jones? Emil Steilsson - a random underclassman - and Ivan Braginsky? I mean, what?"

Elizaveta nodded. "I know. I was thinking about that, too. It's almost like Gilbert chose people we have no connection with. Or maybe... maybe they're people he trusted?"

"Why the hell would he trust Natalia Arlovskaya?" Arthur asked.

Elizaveta's eyes became cold. "I don't know," she responded curtly. "I don't know anything about Gilbert anymore."

"Like that Ivan kept beating him up!" Mathias exclaimed, so disgruntled that he stood up from the plush couch he and Arthur had been sitting on.

Arthur choked on his tea. "What?" he coughed. "Are you serious? Is that why Ivan was beating him up? Because he was gay?!"

Mathias shook his head. "No, I heard Alfred and Ivan arguing before their fight, and Ivan said that he"-

"Wait," Elizaveta said. "Gilbert was gay?" The Hungarian's eyes widened in surprise when Mathias nodded. Francis' lips were parted in shock, half disbelief, half surprise. "Really? And he never said anything? Wow, this is quite... quite surprising." Francis smirked. "It's a shame. We could have had some fun, Gilbert and I, oui?"

Mathias sighed loudly. "Francis, why can't you just be _American?" _

"That's a terrible thing to say!" Elizaveta gasped. "Francis, he's dead! How thoughtless! I - you shouldn't be saying such things!"

"I was joking," Francis laughed, but he looked drained. "Sorry. I was just trying to make one joke. I know he's dead." He turned away from the other four, talking more to himself than anyone, and whispered, "Désolé, mon ami. More than anything, I wish you were alive. Gilbert, we miss you. There is no more 'Bad Touch Trio', Gil. We are just a duo now. Not even a duo. Just two sad souls who miss their good friend very much. How could you do this? Did I let you down? I'm sorry..."

**December 10th**

"Oh, Elizaveta, that's gorgeous!" Mei gasped. Michelle clasped her hands together, beaming. "Ravishing, ma chère! I can't believe the dance is on Friday. And it's already Wednesday!"

Elizaveta's two best friends had insisted she model the dress she was going to be wearing to the Winter Soirée after school that day. It was a green, knee-length, tulle dress she had bought on clearance a few weeks back. Elizaveta flashed a smile. She was glad to be with her friends, of course, but what Arthur had said yesterday kept playing over and over in her mind, tormenting her.

_Because he was gay... _

Elizaveta wasn't like Ivan. Oh, no, not even close. She had no issues with gays at all. She and Kiku Honda were quite interested in them, actually. But Gilbert had... had been special to her. You might even go as far as to say she had a crush. There were only two issues with this - the aforementioned crush was gay and dead. Elizaveta exhaled, considering this. _Not exactly a recipe for success. _

Elizaveta changed back into jeans and a sweatshirt, throwing her brown hair into a ponytail. She sat cross-legged on her bed, contemplating all these things, until she realized Michelle was snapping her fingers. "Eliza. Anybody home?"

"Yes, yes, sorry. What is it?"

"You've been really distracted since..." Michelle took a deep breath. "I'm just gonna say it. You've been really distracted since Gilbert's death. It's concerning me."

Mei's eyes flew open. "Michelle!" she hissed. "We weren't going to talk about that!"

"Look, Eliza," Michelle said bluntly. "You've been holding all your emotions in. Trust me on this - if you don't let it out soon, you're going to explode. Detonate. And the pieces are going to fly everywhere, and they're going to be sharp, and it won't be pretty."

Mei frowned. "Aren't you being a little dramatic, Michelle?"

"Hey." Elizaveta smiled and rested her hands on Michelle's. "Yes, Gilbert's death is killing me. It hurts. I know you two weren't very close to him, and I - he and I were. But I'm going to be fine. I'm glad you worry about me. If you didn't, what kind of friend would you be?" At that, Michelle grinned. "However," Elizaveta continued, "You really don't need to. Everything's okay. You'll see."

｡｡｡｡｡

Matthew liked Wednesdays. Sure, school usually happened then, but Wednesday was the middle day - the day no one noticed. Invisible. He related to it, if it's even possible to relate to a day of the week. And being at home, especially with the present events going on, was very comforting. He could hear his mother in the kitchen, cooking dinner, and his father would be getting home from work in an hour or so. He glanced over at his phone when he heard the chime indicating he had received a text.

_4:01 PM - Alfred Jones: DETENTION SUCKS. _

_4:02 PM - Matthew Williams: I'm sorry, Alfred, but maybe that's why you shouldn't get into random fights in the cafeteria!_

_4:02 PM - Alfred Jones: I hate it when you're right. At least my last one is tomorrow._

_4:03 PM - Matthew Williams: Uh, yeah. Count your blessings that you didn't get a Friday detention! _

"Matthew, can you give me a hand?" Mrs. Williams called.

"Yes, Mom, coming," Matthew replied, walking into the kitchen. He was wearing socks, but the cold tile made his toes curl. He grimaced. He wondered if dying felt cold.

"So," Mrs. Williams said while her son was chopping carrots, "Are you going to that dance your school is holding on Friday?"

Matthew felt himself flush. "No, Mom. I'm not."

"Aw, but sweetie, aren't all your friends going?"

"They are," Matthew said. It was true. Francis was taking Michelle, and he remembered that Arthur had somewhat rudely asked Elizaveta the previous week. He wondered if Alfred was going. Probably. Alfred was pretty popular, but at this point, Matthew was willing to bet he didn't have a 'special girl' in mind. But the student body didn't know that. "Dances aren't really fun for me."

Mrs. Williams chuckled. "Oh, Matt, you're just like your father."

Matthew and his mother were silent for the rest of the dinner preparation. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence - Matthew was normally pretty quiet - but the second the task was done, Matthew went back into the living room. Like clockwork, another text had appeared on his phone, but this one wasn't from Alfred.

_4:20 PM - Mathias Køhler: You better be at the Soirée on Friday. We're looking for secret-keepers. Also there will be food. It's gonna be GREAT._

_4:20 PM - Mathias Køhler: Actually, 'interesting' is probably a more accurate adjective..._

Matthew read it quickly, then groaned, flopping down on the couch. Convincing his mother that dances weren't his thing was one thing, but...

_4:21 PM - Matthew Williams: Fine._


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I can't believe we've reached ten chapters! To anyone who has given me advice and help, thank you very much! I hope you enjoy this chapter. It appears everyone hates Ivan now... Hmm... That's his loss!

* * *

**December 11th**

Antonio was sitting at the desk in his room, tapping a pencil against the wood. He had grown tired of attempting to do Literature homework and was staring out the window, watching snow drift down from the gray, cloudy sky. School had been pretty routine. He was tired of hearing about the Soirée. A few weeks ago, Antonio had asked Bella, whom he liked the tiniest bit, only to find that the Belgian was going with Abel. Oh, well. Antonio didn't mind too much. Really, he blamed his gloomy mood on the sky. Overcast. No hint of the shiny, bright sun he loved.

And Francis. Francis again. Antonio was worried about Francis, usually for various reasons. There was that time near the end of summer when Francis and his girlfriend of a year, Jeanne, had broken up. It hadn't been pretty. And Francis was usually pretty dramatic, having a knack for over-the-top soliloquies and heart-jerking monologues. But all those times, Francis had Antonio and Gilbert to comfort him. Now, if anything went wrong, there was just plain old Antonio. And Antonio was pretty sure something was wrong.

The trouble had started at the previous Confidants' Club meeting, the one at Mathias' house on Tuesday. Francis hadn't been acting normally since then. Instead of making flirtatious comments to every life form he saw, he was unusually withdrawn from life. Instead of bashing school meals during lunch, he ate dejectedly and headed to class without much conversation. Sure, Antonio had heard Francis mumbling nonsense apologies to Gilbert during the Tuesday meeting, but surely that wasn't why...? Or could it...? Still, he didn't want to randomly question Francis. Though he should have, he didn't. He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found Arthur Kirkland's.

He never talked to Arthur Kirkland, except when they got paired up in class, or maybe recently at The Confidants' Club meetings. The two weren't so fond of each other, but Antonio knew Arthur and Francis were friends. Sort of. It rang three times before Arthur picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hello. It's Antonio."

"Antonio?" Antonio could hear the skepticism in Arthur's voice. "Well, um, hello. Can I help you?"

"Actually, yes. Have you talked to Francis since Tuesday?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Does he seem... off to you?"

"So you noticed, too. It's like he snapped!" Annoyance laced Arthur's voice for reasons Antonio couldn't begin to fathom.

"I think he's acting strangely," Antonio tried again.

"I also think one plus one equals two," Arthur replied dryly.

Antonio exhaled loudly. This is why he didn't enjoy talking to Arthur. Too much sarcasm and too much of a cynical perspective for the Spaniard's liking. "Well, what do you think is wrong with him?"

"What isn't wrong with him?" Arthur fired back. "I think he's grieving, actually. For Gilbert."

"But why now?"

"I know. I know." Arthur sounded agitated. "I mean, Gilbert's been dead for more than a month, and now Francis suddenly seems to notice? It's like he's been on autopilot these past few weeks. But I guess I'll talk to him. See if he's okay."

"Maybe it's his coping mechanism."

"What's yours?"

Antonio paused. "What?"

"Yours," Arthur said. "What's your coping mechanism?"

"Hmm..." Antonio bit his lip lightly, considering this. "Smile through it, I guess. Maybe you'll even make other people happy."

Arthur snorted. "You're so naïve, Antonio."

"I'm not naïve. I'm optimistic."

"It's the same thing."

"It's not," Antonio said. "At least, I like to believe they're different. I like to believe you can trust people and hope for the best without looking like an idiot."

"An idiot, huh? That reminds me of something. You're close with the Vargas family, aren't you?"

"Oh, yes, very much so. Aren't you and Lovino friends? You two are so alike."

Arthur sighed. "No. I worked with him on a group project once. I don't want to spend time with someone who insults me all day and only addresses me as 'bastard'. Besides, with our personalities, it would be only a matter of time before one of us offs the other."

"Yes, it's very annoying when someone insults you nonstop," Antonio said pointedly. Arthur laughed. "Sorry. Anyways, I think you should talk to Feliciano Vargas."

"Oh, really? Why?" Antonio asked.

"I think he's a secret-keeper."

"Feliciano?" exclaimed Antonio. "He couldn't hurt an ant."

"Yes, but he was close with Gilbert through Ludwig, and he's such an... excuse me, but he's an idiot, as you say. Don't you think he'd do Gilbert's bidding?"

"Well, Feli's not idiot, first of all. He's actually got very high marks in all his classes. He just acts dumb. Or, well, he's truly naïve."

"Okay, okay, whatever. I still think you should talk to him. Hint about things."

Antonio's eyes were focused on the snow buffeting around outside his bedroom window. "Sure. When were you actually planning to tell me all this?"

"I was going to at the Soirée, but then you called, so I figured I'd just tell you now."

Pause. "All right," Antonio said finally. "Thank you. I'll talk to him. See you tomorrow."

There was more silence, and Arthur eventually said, "Okay. And I'll speak to Francis."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

There was another minute of serene hush, until Antonio was the one to finally hang up.

｡｡｡｡｡

Ivan had been dreading this. On Tuesday, after he and Alfred had gotten into that very public, very damaging fight, after he had gotten sent to the principal's office like a grade-schooler, after he had confronted Emil, after he had done all those things, he had gotten a letter.

Oh, he knew it was coming. But that did not make it any better.

He had spoken to Emil before school ended the day he found out the Icelandic kid was his secret-keeper, and Emil had pulled an envelope out of his bag, just like the one Natalia had given Alfred, except this one was addressed to Ivan. Despite Ivan's words to Alfred in the cafeteria, despite everything he had said about Gilbert's life being a game, he felt a genuine loss at Gilbert's death. He and Gilbert had a... strange relationship. Since it had been several days since he had received the letter, Ivan decided it was time to open it. It was still folded in one of his textbooks.

He had just gotten out of his last detention (and his father had been beyond pissed that Ivan was fighting on school grounds), so Ivan got home and locked himself in his room with the textbook and a glass of water.

_So, Commie, we've reached the end of an era, haven't we? But this is no time for sentiment. I can't believe you actually figured out that Emil was harboring your secret, though knowing you, you probably threatened to mutilate him unless he did your bidding. Or, no, wait, you favored Emil, didn't you? Anyways, listen: I know your life sucks. I know your father's a wasted old jerk and your mother doesn't have time for you, but guess what? That doesn't excuse your actions. I can't stand to talk about this right now, so I will write about things I want you to know. Things I'd like to say to you. First of all, I hope you're working with the group, because that will simplify things for you all. At this point in time, you may or may not have the other letters, but in some of those, I basically say, 'Oh, your fault lies in the other letters.' Or 'I'm sorry'. Well, Ivan, the other letters won't help you here. You have no reason to find them, because I'm about to tell you everything you need to know. For you, it's all here. Pay attention. We were never friends. You were simply lumped into that group. I'm not going to lie, Ivan. I hate you. But you were a very fun rival. An interesting one. You kept me on my toes; I kept you on yours. I respect you for that. But I don't respect some of the choices you've made. How hypocritical does that sound, considering I ended my own life? Probably very, but I don't care. Another thing, Ivan: you are different from the others, in the sense that I bet you find these secrets quite disgusting. Well, I find you disgusting, so it's all good. One last question - as I said earlier, I hope you're working with the group, but either way, I'm wondering: Where do you buy your vodka? _  
_Береги себя,_  
_Gilbert Beilschmidt _

Береги себя. 'Best wishes'. Or 'take care of yourself'. Gilbert probably thought that was a nice touch to add to a suicide letter for a Russian acquaintance.

Ivan was bewildered. The letter seemed to switch between so many topics. So, the underlying theme in the two letters uncovered so far was 'work in a group', which The Confidants' Club was doing, but why? Gilbert had literally stated that Ivan had no reason to hunt for the other letters. Hadn't he? And...

_Where do you buy your vodka? _

What on earth did that mean? How was it related to anything at all? Oh, well. Ivan's head was aching, so he took an aspirin, made sure that he had his suit and tie laid out for tomorrow's Soirée, and went to bed. He would worry about his problems later.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Natalia and Lovino were already noted together in the coffeehouse confrontation, but they aren't dating. They're just very good friends. Also, I'm going to start getting sidetracked on this story. And by that, I mean I'll develop the character's 'backstories' and interactions more, if you know what I mean.

* * *

**December 12th **

Lovino Vargas hated chemistry. Despised it. First of all, he had to share a class not only with his brother Feliciano, but also with nearly every asshole in the eleventh grade. It was almost as if the school had purposely lumped him in a class with a bunch of dimwits. Lovino allowed a heavy sigh to pass his lips and looked around the classroom. People-watching never got old. The teacher was droning on about some chemical Lovino didn't bother to comprehend. He'd pass the class anyways. He always did.

Kiku Honda, Lovino's lab partner, was studiously taking notes. That was fine; Lovino didn't mind Kiku that much. Heracles Karpusi was drifting off to sleep. Ivan Braginsky and Alfred Jones seemed to be cold-shouldering each other. Lovino didn't care. They were probably fighting over a girl or something dumb. Near the front of the room, Feliciano was - wait, what?

Feliciano was on his phone? _During class? _

That wasn't unusual for a student. But for Feliciano? He was always attentive and obedient during class. Lovino took out his phone and texted his brother.

_11:39 AM - Lovino Vargas: What are you doing? _

After five minutes, Feliciano hadn't answered, and it was obvious he was still on his phone. Lovino snorted and turned to Elizaveta Héderváry, the hard-working girl seated to his left. "Hey," he whispered.

She looked up from her chemistry textbook. "Yeah?"

"Um... do you have a hairband?"

Elizaveta raised an eyebrow at her classmate. "Sure," she muttered, pulling one off her wrist. Lovino swore girls wore those things like a code. "Thanks," he replied softly. He turned back to the front of the room, but he was aware that Elizaveta was still watching him curiously. Lovino was indifferent to this and looped her hairband around his fingers, taking aim. His aim was excellent. He did this too often. Elizaveta looked amused and fairly surprised.

Lovino let the hairband fly, watching it arc through the classroom and hit his stupid brother on the head. Finally. That got Feliciano's attention. He turned around, staring at Lovino. Feliciano actually looked somewhat annoyed, a facial expression that didn't suit him.

_Respond,_ Lovino mouthed, pointing at his own phone. Feliciano nodded and turned back around.

"Sorry about your hairband," Lovino murmured to Elizaveta. She just smiled and continued taking notes.

_11:45 AM - Feliciano Vargas: Sorry! I was texting Antonio._

_11:46 AM - Lovino Vargas: WHAT? The tomato bastard?!_

_11:47 AM - Feliciano Vargas: Please, fratello! He just wanted to talk about Gilbert Beilschmidt. _

Lovino frowned. Antonio wasn't even in this class. Couldn't he have just waited until lunch? Lovino sent Feliciano several more text messages, all wondering about the tomato bastard and Gilbert, but Feliciano ignored them all. The second the bell rang for lunch, Lovino's fratello had disappeared.

｡｡｡｡｡

Lovino was fairly surprised when he walked to his usual table in the cafeteria and Feliciano was sitting there. Feliciano usually sat with Antonio and Bella, or Kiku Honda, or Ludwig Beilschmidt, Gilbert's younger brother, who was in the tenth grade. But Feli never sat with Lovino and his friends. (Or, more accurately, friend - just him and Natalia Arlovskaya.)

"What are you doing here?" barked Lovino, setting down his stuff and sitting next to Natalia.

"Oh! I was going to talk to you about Antonio," Feliciano replied.

Lovino rolled his eyes, opening his Thermos. "Then by all means, go ahead."

Natalia looked genuinely interested. "What?"

"Antonio didn't go into that much detail, so I'm not really sure what he was trying to say, but when he was texting me, he kept hinting about, like..." Feliciano's hands were moving furiously. "A secret. And Gilbert Beilschmidt. And he kept asking me if I knew any secrets of Gilbert's. Before he died, I mean. Antonio asked if Gilbert talked to me."

Lovino set down his fork. His pasta wasn't sitting with him so well anymore...

"D-did he?" Natalia asked, looking just as sick as Lovino did. This confused Lovino, but he was too preoccupied to ask why this mattered to Natalia.

"Hmm?" Feliciano looked cheerful as always. "No, I didn't know what he was talking about." Feliciano stood up. "I'm going to go sit with Kiku now! He's gonna talk about this manga called Evangel"-

"Okay," interrupted Lovino. "Just - just go, Feli. Bye."

"I, uh, wonder what that was about," Natalia said shakily once Feliciano had left.

Lovino knew. And he had a sneaking suspicion that Natalia did, too.

｡｡｡｡｡

Arthur was regretting his decision to confide in Matthew. Well, in a complicated way. After Antonio had called Arthur yesterday, Arthur had chatted with Matthew about Francis. Matthew agreed that there was definitely something up, and the two had decided to confront Francis about it during lunch the next day. Which, unfortunately, meant they had to talk about it _now._

That was going fine for Matthew. He and Francis were having a fast-paced conversation in French, while Arthur was left to deal with an angry, melodramatic Alfred.

"Come on, Alfred," Arthur attempted. "It's Friday. Brighten up. And that dance is later today! You were fine yesterday. What's the matter? You're not even eating, and it's pizza!" The Brit plastered a fake smile on his face.

Alfred glared at his friend. "Ivan-fucking-Braginsky is the matter."

Arthur frowned. Of course. Several people had been coming up to Arthur and asking what had happened between Ivan and Alfred, knowing the Brit was close friends with the latter. "It's not your business," Arthur would tell them. "Go away. Don't you have more important things to worry about?" But there were lots of rumors going around. Everyone who had been in the cafeteria that Tuesday had seen the fight. In fact, since Alfred and Ivan were ignoring each other now, many people were referring to their little drama as the Cold War. "Oh," Heracles had said to Arthur the day before, "Russians and Americans never really did get along, did they?"

"Don't let him get to you," Arthur said, though in truth, he wasn't so fond of Ivan either. But he had never been close with Ivan. Alfred had. Personally, Arthur thought Ivan was being ridiculous and shallow, but he knew how weirded out Ivan could get by these things.

"Say, Iggy," Alfred muttered cheerlessly, "you never told me - what's your secret?"

Arthur gritted his teeth. "Nothing," he said sharply and much too loudly. He tried to lower the volume of his voice, because Matthew, Francis, and Alfred were all staring at him.

Alfred shrugged, looking mildly interested. Nosy git! "We'll probably find out sooner or later," Alfred reasoned. "C'mon, Iggy, tell us now."

"It's nothing. Actually." Arthur forced a shaky laugh.

"Tell us," Alfred pressed.

"It's totally irrelevant!" Arthur finally exclaimed. "I'm not trying to sound rude, but Gilbert shouldn't be blaming me for my secret. It's absurd that he would hold this over my head! I certainly couldn't have done anything about it. It's stupid. No, it's more than that. It's _unrealistic!__"_

"Arthur," Francis said. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but he didn't dare.

Matthew and Alfred were staring at Arthur, who was sitting there, cheeks red and breath short from his sudden lament. Arthur picked up his apple. "Well, it's true!"

"My God, Arthur," Alfred said quietly.

"Stop staring at me," Arthur snapped, feeling he had to defend himself after what he had just said. He changed the subject. "Francis, I see you're feeling better, huh?"

Francis' eyes narrowed, but not in a mean way. He was obviously thinking very intensely, very quickly, and very strategically. It seemed everyone was flipping out for the smallest of reasons lately - Alfred, Ivan, Arthur, even Francis himself. It would be best to choose words carefully from thereon out. "Well, yes," Francis said. "To be candid, the other day at Mathias', I think it really hit me that Gilbert isn't coming back. Ever."

Arthur snorted. "It's been more than a month."

"Yes, but this... this secret stuff - I mean, he didn't drop it on us until December first," Francis replied.

Arthur nodded, his face burning with anger and embarrassment. It was true. Gilbert had killed himself in early November. His funeral had been on November 15th. By December, everyone thought all traces of him were slowly fading away. Arthur had been trying to forget. Not only about Gilbert's death, but about - about someone else, too. Someone whose life was massively intertwined with his secret. And Arthur was not happy about this. Then, eight people got slammed with those secret threats...

"Arthur," Alfred said gently. "I'm sorry. Can you help me with my homework?"

Arthur smiled weakly. "You should have done it at home, idiot."

"I know," Alfred said. "I forgot."

"Git," Arthur said, but he knew - in a weird way- Alfred was trying to make him feel better by admitting he needed help, even with something as insignificant as his homework. When Arthur had first moved to the United States in sixth grade - the first year of American middle school - things had been chaotic and painful, and Alfred had loyally stuck by Arthur and helped him adjust. Arthur vowed to repay the favor. Plus, he liked helping people. He looked at Alfred's assignment, just like old times. The air of the lunch table was tense, but Arthur ignored it. He scanned over a passage in Alfred's textbook.

But Arthur knew, deep down, The Confidants' Club's emotions couldn't be overlooked forever. Sooner or later, something was going to happen, and it would probably be more than a fight in the cafeteria or an emotional breakdown during a talk. At the rate things were going, a storm was going to break sometime, and everyone standing in range was going to get hurt.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Over 100 reviews! Thank you all so much! Okay, let me quickly remind you guys of something: Himaruya mentioned that sometimes, Hungary has a foul mouth. This isn't even relevant, actually. I just felt the need to say that in case she somehow starts dropping f-bombs. P.S. Louise Canella is Monaco, and this gets pretty dramatic!

* * *

**December 12th **

"Elizaveta, can I talk with you for a moment?"

Elizaveta had been gathering papers from her locker during lunch. The halls were silent. Everyone was in the cafeteria, and she was planning to go there next. She turned her head. Ivan was standing there, looking down at her. Elizaveta paused. "Ivan. What do you need?"

"Could you come over to my house today - after school?"

"What?" Elizaveta actually laughed. She hadn't meant to. But it was funny - I mean, Ivan Braginsky inviting her over to his house? Well, the day was full of surprises!

Ivan's cheeks reddened. "I - I have to talk to you about something, and you're one of the only people in The Confidants' Club who isn't upset with me."

Elizaveta shuffled around some papers so she wouldn't have to look at Ivan. "Well, to be fair, I don't blame them for being mad at you! You've been horrible to Alfred."

"I opened the letter," Ivan said. That got Elizaveta's attention. She paused and looked back up at him. Her voice was strained as she asked, "The letter from Emil?"

Ivan nodded. Elizaveta weighed her options. "Alright, fine. I'll stop by your house. But I can't stay there very long. I have to get ready for the Soirée."

"Fine," Ivan said. "Drive yourself over any time. I'll be waiting."

Meanwhile, back in the cafeteria, Lovino could stand the awkward silence no longer. "Do you know what Feliciano was talking about?" he asked. "Be honest."

Natalia tucked a strand of long, blonde hair behind her ear. "Yes, I do. What about you?"

"I think so. Gilbert? Having to keep someone's secret until Christmas?"

Natalia nodded, and Lovino felt relieved. In late October, Lovino had found a letter addressed to him in his mailbox. No information. It had been dropped off by hand. And when Lovino opened it, it was filled with details about a certain person, about everything Lovino would have to do. Signed, Gilbert Beilschmidt. Lovino had no clue that there were other people who had received similar directions from the now-deceased Gilbert. And it was such a relief that he wasn't the only one.

"Whose secret are you keeping?" Natalia asked.

Lovino hesitated. "Bonnefoy's."

"Ah," Natalia said. "I got Alfred Jones, but he already asked me about it. He's safe. How many of them do you think there are? Obviously we know that Antonio has a secret."

"No clue. I wonder how many of us secret-keepers there are, actually. I thought I was the only one."

"Me, too," Natalia replied. "Gilbert never said anything about more secret-keepers. Or about anything, really."

"I wonder why he did all this," Lovino remarked. "He left quite a mess for the living."

Natalia closed her eyes. Shook her head. "Yeah, he did."

At another table, Antonio was sitting with Bella and Abel, feeling absolutely hopeless. He had spoken with Feliciano, just like Arthur had suggested, and... nada. Feliciano was clueless to the whole thing. This left him nowhere. He had no clue who might be harboring knowledge about him. He took out his phone.

_12:20 PM - Antonio Carriedo: Feliciano isn't a secret keeper._

_12:22 PM - Arthur Kirkland: Oh no, really?_

_12:23 PM - Antonio Carriedo: Yeah. _

There wasn't really much more than that to say. Antonio jumped when Bella poked his cheek.

"What's the matter?" Bella asked cheerfully.

Antonio's breath caught in his throat. He looked at her brilliant green eyes. Pleasant. Enthusiastic. There was no way she could be a secret-keeper, right? At least, not for Antonio. If she was, she was an excellent actress. Better than Antonio. "N-nothing," he murmured.

"Are you sure?" Abel asked gruffly.

Then, Antonio lied. But it wasn't a big lie. Or maybe it was, depending on your point of view. "No," he said. "I'm fine."

｡｡｡｡｡

_We need to talk. -Alfred_

Arthur looked up from his textbook when a folded piece of notebook paper landed on his desk. He glanced around before answering it.

_-About? _

He passed the note back to Alfred, and a few seconds later:

_Lunch._

_-Okay, what about lunch?_

_Dude, you had, like, a 'meltdown'. What happened?_

_-Alfred, you kept pressuring me about the secret!_

_So then just tell me what it is! You know mine!_

Arthur gritted his teeth. Still, Alfred had a point... He tapped his pen against the desk's surface a few times before writing a reply.

_-It's seriously nothing. Like I said, it's pointless and... it's just stupid. Gil was being stupid._

_Shit, dude, that's NOT gonna cut it!_

Arthur frowned, staring at the sheet of paper. The rain... the memory... choosing not to help... Gilbert had certainly picked the (arguably) worst secret of Arthur's. So Arthur made a decision, then and there, to tell the truth. Or, at least, the beginning of the truth. Or, at the _very_ least, to mention the topic. To make people aware of it so that it wouldn't weigh him down as much.

_-Fine. It's about Louise Canella. _

_OH, FUCK! WHAT?!_

_-I'll explain later._

"Mr. Kirkland, are you passing notes during class?" The teacher questioned, striding over to Arthur's desk. Arthur's heart dropped to his stomach. He knew that if you got caught passing notes in class, the notes were read out loud in front of everyone.

"Mr. Roberts, it's not"- Arthur began, but the teacher swiped up the sheet of paper and cleared his throat.

The class seemed confused by the notes, whispering about the secret. When the topic of Louise Canella came up, several people gasped, and Mr. Roberts turned to look at Arthur. "Who is Louise Canella? An underclassman?"

Most of the people in the class knew who Louise was, and their murmurs were growing louder and louder.

"She doesn't have this class, sir," Arthur said, his throat dry. It was true. Just not necessarily the best kind of true.

Mr. Roberts sighed. "Of course I know that. She isn't one of my students. I don't recognize her name. Who is she? And why is there so much profanity in this?"

Alfred cut in, saving Arthur. "Louise Canella is dead, sir," he said. "She passed away a few years ago."

Mr. Roberts' eyes widened slightly, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. "That - I'm afraid that is most unfortunate," he said, dropping the paper into the trash can. "F-from now on, please refrain from passing notes in class, Mr. Kirkland, Mr. Jones."

"Yes sir."

｡｡｡｡｡

As soon as the bell rang, Arthur made a mad dash for the door, knowing that people were going to start coming over to him and asking him questions. Most of them were, "What did you have to do with that?" Or, "What secrets?" Or, "What's Alfred's secret?" And a few people even asked, "Who's Louise Canella?" That question bothered him the most.

Arthur opened his locker as quickly as he could and hurried to his next class, which was, coincidentally, also shared with Alfred.

"Hey," Alfred hissed, appearing at Arthur's desk before the class began. "You have to tell me now. What was your secret? Arthur, tell me!"

"I just wanted to say that it had to do with Louise," Arthur said, and to his relief, the bell rang again, signaling that the class was beginning.

Arthur considered what the hell he had just done. Everyone who had been in class with Arthur since eighth grade knew who Louise Canella was. Her name was the kind of name that, if whispered in the halls, would most certainly draw attention. Just like Alfred had said, Louise had died years before. She and her family had moved from Monaco to the United States when Louise had been in sixth grade. In the summer between their eighth and ninth grade years, Louise had been hit by a bus. Everyone - _everyone _- parents, teachers, students, and friends, had all argued over whether it had been a suicide or an accident. Some said that Louise was too young to have killed herself - just fourteen years old. Arthur thought that was asinine. Others said that she was too smart to have not noticed a huge bus rushing towards her, and that she had obviously taken her own life. Arthur didn't entirely agree with that, either. No one could come to an agreement.

Arthur sighed in frustration when he saw a text from Alfred appear on his phone.

_2:30 PM - Alfred Jones: How did YOU have anything to do with Louise Canella? What was Gilbert even talking about?_

_2:31 PM - Arthur Kirkland: I SAID I'd tell you later, git!_

With that, Arthur switched off his phone, praying no one would ask him anything else about secrets, Alfred, Louise, or - God forbid - Gilbert.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I made Fem!Russia Ivan's cousin, but she and Ivan aren't related to Katyusha. Also, Of Monsters and Men is real Icelandic band; they're amazing. Let me apologize quickly: I rewrote this chapter maybe five times. Sure, it's practically a filler chapter, but it was incredibly hard to write - no clue why - so I hope you like it!

* * *

**December 12th**

Ivan stared at the window of his house, befuddled by what he saw. Though he was in broad daylight, he could glimpse lights burning downstairs. That couldn't be right... Ivan's mother wouldn't be home from work for hours, and his father was usually getting sloshed at some bar, or lying passed on the couch.

Elizaveta pulled into the driveway and parked.

"Thank you for the ride," Ivan said.

"No problem," Elizaveta replied, unbuckling her seat belt and glancing over at Ivan. "Are you alright?"

Ivan shook his head, as if pulling himself out of a daze. "Yes, I am fine. Let's go inside." They walked up to the front door, and Ivan was about to pull his house key out of his backpack when he froze. The door was already unlocked. He started at the doorknob until Elizaveta cleared her throat impatiently. "Sorry," he said, pushing the door open.

The smell of baking bread enveloped Elizaveta and Ivan. The hall lights were on. Elizaveta didn't seem fazed by any of this, and Ivan remembered that she grew up with two loving parents and was probably used to coming home to a place where everyone waited on you if you stayed out late, or at least left the porch lights on.

"Ivan, are you home from school? Oh, goodness! You've gotten so tall! What are you, 6'5? 6'6? Wow!"

Ivan snorted at the sound of that voice. Two seconds later, his older cousin, Anya Braginskaya, appeared from down the hall - probably from the kitchen - smiling and holding her arms out for a hug.

"Anya," Ivan managed as she pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace, "What are you doing here? In the United States?"

She pretended to look hurt. "Silly! I came in to visit. Actually, I had to go to Canada - business trip - so I figured I'd stop by before going home to Russia! You aren't going to kick me out, are you?"

"N-no! Of course not," Ivan said quickly. "Make yourself at home..."

Anya noticed Elizaveta. "Oh, Ivan, you brought a girl home? How nice!" She squinted at Elizaveta, then smiled again. "Hey, I recognize you! Elizabeth?"

"Elizaveta," the Hungarian corrected politely. "Um, do I know you... Anya? I'm afraid I don't recognize you. I'm not so good with names and faces."

"Hmm." Anya frowned again, concentrating. "Da! I think so. Didn't you sell - or, maybe not?" she softened, waving a hand. "Well, I can see it's snowing here! I didn't think America got much snow. I must admit, I'm a bit disappointed. I wanted a sunny trip, but this is fine. Ivan, where are your parents?"

"Work," Ivan said immediately. Elizaveta glanced at Ivan. She remembered what Alfred had said in the cafeteria fight about Ivan's father being an alcoholic. Elizaveta felt bad for Ivan. Her aunt was an alcoholic, so she knew what it was like. In fact, her aunt always had bottles of -

Elizaveta's thoughts were interrupted by Anya, who had been chatting with Ivan in Russian. Thankfully, she switched to English, though Elizaveta still had a slight issue with understanding Anya's heavy accent. "A dance? You two are going to a dance? And it is tonight?!"

"Well, we're not going together," Elizaveta replied awkwardly. "I already have a date." _Yeah. A cynical, bossy, loud-mouthed 'gentleman'._

"No matter!" Anya laughed. "I'll do your makeup. Oh, may I? Please?"

"Sure, but"- Elizaveta began, glancing at Ivan. "I hate to ask this of you, Anya, but could I just talk to Ivan for a moment? Alone?" Elizaveta asked.

Anya nodded. "Of course, _dorogaya! _If you like, when you two are finished, you can come into the kitchen. I made some bread."

Once Anya had left the foyer, Ivan sighed. "She's so annoying."

"Ivan! She's your cousin."

Ivan seemed amused. "Oh, I really do love her, very much so. But she's annoying. She's twenty-three, yet she still feels the need to visit every so often."

"Take that as a compliment," Elizaveta said. "Now, where's the letter?"

"It's upstairs. I'll go get it."

While Ivan was searching for letter, Elizaveta courteously stayed in the foyer, thinking about Anya Braginskaya. Although Elizaveta didn't specifically remember Anya, she did seem a bit familiar. And what had she been saying at selling things...? No, Elizaveta decided, she didn't know Anya. Anya must have been thinking of someone else. Elizaveta pushed the thoughts from her mind and waited for Ivan to return.

"Here's the letter," he said, walking back down the stairs, paper in hand.

Elizaveta took it from him carefully, scared that it might explode or rip her head off. She read it over, brows knit. When she was finished, she looked up at him. "Well, it's not exactly the nicest letter I've ever read," she said, her voice controlled and distant.

"That was to be expected. For me, at least," Ivan said. "Do you know what any of it means?"

Elizaveta's eyes widened. "Are you accusing me of something?" she snapped. "Because let me tell you, you're in no position to!"

Ivan stepped back, astonished by her offended and sudden reaction. "N-no! Of course not. I was just wondering if you knew what any of it meant!"

She pressed her lips into a hard line. "Ah. I see. Apologies. Well, I have a guess."

"Go for it. And hurry," Ivan added when he heard Anya calling, "You two coming?"

"Okay, well. You've heard of chain reactions, obviously? Yeah? Well, I think that's what happened here. Not a scientific chain reaction. A figurative one. We know Gilbert said that all the information _you _need is right here, but I think he wants you to keep working with the group so... so we know how everything fits together, you know? How one thing lead to another and how we ultimately screwed up his life."

"Makes sense," Ivan said. "Thank you for coming over. Now, let's get into the kitchen before Anya has a heart attack."

｡｡｡｡｡

Emil was flipping through his eighth grade yearbook, sighing nostalgically. He looked over everyone's signatures. Raivis, Yong Soo, and Lilli had all written quotes from various Of Monsters and Men songs, only because both Emil and the band were both Icelandic, and somehow they found that fascinating. He traced a finger over one of the citations Lilli had left him. He wasn't daydreaming, but he was coming very close to it - something he rarely did.

"Emil, what on earth are you doing?"

Emil snapped the yearbook shut, balancing it on his knee. It probably wasn't so smart of him to have been doing that in the middle of the family room... Emil looked up at Lukas. Lukas was wearing a black suit and tie, black dress pants, and a light blue dress shirt. Emil's eyes flicked to the clock on the fireplace's mantle. 5:46 PM.

"I was, uh," Emil began, tapping the hard, shiny cover of the yearbook. He changed the subject. "You look dressed up."

"I _am_ going to a dance."

"Thanks, genius," Emil snapped. "Next year, I'll be old enough to go, and I'll annoy you all evening!"

"But I'll be a senior, and I'll be massively above your influence, idiot," Lukas said. "But back to why I came over. Did I tell you what happened when I was working the other day? On Monday, I think?" Lukas asked, sitting down on the couch next to his younger half-brother.

"No, what?"

"Mathias Køhler and Arthur Kirkland came into the Café Italia."

"So?" Emil asked incredulously. "Maybe they just wanted some coffee."

"No, because Feliciano Vargas was at the counter, and they specifically asked for me."

"Maybe they're your secret admirers," Emil teased. Lukas rolled his eyes and said, "Anyways, when I started talking about you, they seemed genuinely interested."

Emil opened his yearbook again, reading more signatures, trying to look nonchalant. "I wonder why."

"They got all excited when I mentioned a secret," Lukas added. "Do you remember talking about that? About Gilbert?"

Emil paused, completely still. "W-what? I -" Emil laughed nervously, his heart hammering in his chest. Shit. How did Arthur and Mathias know about this? Had Ivan said something? No, impossible. Those three upperclassmen weren't even close with each other... Right?

But wait. That didn't make sense. Lukas said Arthur and Mathias had been at the Café Italia on Monday, and Ivan hadn't asked Emil about the secret until Tuesday. So that meant - Lukas stood up, car keys in hand. "I have to get going - to the Soirée, you know. It starts at six. And, Emil?"

"J-ja?"

The Norwegian scowled. "Please, be careful. There are selfish, vengeful people in the world, and I'm afraid many of them go to our school." Then, he called a quick goodbye to his parents and walked out the door, leaving Emil to process everything. Emil fixed his eyes on the white carpet, worries rushing through his mind. Lukas hadn't exactly confronted Emil, but still, he clearly had an idea of the things that were going on.

But just how _much_ did Lukas know?


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: When I sat down to write this, I already knew what I wanted to make this chapter about - but when I stopped writing, it was totally different. Apparently I have no control over my writing anymore. Also, Monaco's a bit OOC, but I could barely find any information on her. Sorry. Please review and enjoy!

* * *

**December 12th**

Arthur was terrified. He couldn't believe Mr. Roberts had read the note aloud - well, he could, but at the same time, it just wasn't fair. If Mr. Roberts had known who Louise was, maybe he wouldn't have touched on the subject, but he did, and everyone who did know - well, this wasn't looking good for Arthur. He sat on his bed, watching the snow, thinking about what was happening.

Louise's death had been his fault. And now, since Gilbert was blaming Arthur for his suicide, he was responsible for not one but two deaths.

Okay, Louise's death hadn't been entirely his doing. But he could have stopped it. However, the only person who knew that was Gilbert. That meant that the only person who knew Arthur was to blame was dead, but the secret wasn't necessarily safe.

**June 4th, two years earlier**

Summer break. The summer break between eighth and ninth grade. Everyone was preparing for their first year of high school. Arthur, Gilbert, and Louise were hanging out, and it was early June, just before Elizaveta's birthday. Gilbert was close with Elizaveta, so when he suggested walking to a shop so he could buy her something, everyone agreed. It was a dark, cloudy day, and halfway to the store they were going to, a light mist began curling up from the ground. It was cool and refreshing. Finally, they reached a busy intersection. The store was just across it, and Gilbert said, "You two wait here. I'm going to go see if it's closed right now or not. I'll be right back." And he disappeared down the crosswalk.

Arthur was left with Louise. He didn't like her very much. Didn't dislike her. Just didn't care for her. He tried to make idle conversation, but after a few attempts at random subjects, it was unbearably awkward. He gave up and just stood there, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of the light mist. The dark sky reminded him of London.

"Why does Gilbert like Elizaveta so much?"

Arthur's eyes snapped open. Louise had been silent for so long, he almost forgot she was there. Arthur watched cars rush by on the street, praying for patience. He could hear the edge in Louise's voice, so he said, "I don't know. They've been close friends. I don't really know when they met. They've lived in the US longer than I have."

"I see," Louise said. Her eyes were deadly and stormy. Arthur was growing concerned for Elizaveta. He didn't know her that well, but he was quite fond of her.

"What, are you jealous?" Arthur joked, trying to lighten the mood, but it was the wrong thing to say.

"No," Louise snapped. "Why would I be jealous of her?"

"You don't have to get upset," Arthur replied. "I wasn't being serious. Anyways, Elizaveta's nice."

Louise was silent, staring at the crosswalk. "I just don't like her too much. Don't think ill of it. She's very attention seeking."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "That's not a very nice thing to say."

"It's true. You know it's true."

Arthur felt the need to defend the Hungarian. "No, it isn't. You want to know something about Elizaveta? She's very helpful. Yeah, I've heard her curse like a sailor, but she has very good intentions. Why do you even care, anyways? She hasn't done anything to you, now has she?"

"Please quit!" Louise exclaimed, raising her voice. "If you were a girl, maybe you'd get it!"

Arthur was growing more and more frustrated. "You're a real arse, you know that, right?"

"Stop talking!"

"You're the one who started it, Louise!"

Arthur knew Louise was about to reply, but they noticed Gilbert standing across the four-lane street. "Yeah, they're open!" he shouted. "Come on over, okay!"

Louise glared at Arthur and took off running towards Gilbert.

Gilbert's eyes widened. "Louise - _STOP!"_

Arthur noticed it, too. A bus was hurtling straight for Louise, since she hadn't bothered to check for oncoming traffic or wait for the crosswalk or anything. In her last moments of life, Louise had been right in front of Arthur. He could have grabbed her, but he chose not to. Arthur was mad, yes, but he hadn't wanted Louise to die. If he had thought it through, he would have grabbed her; would have pulled her back to safety. But he only had one split second, and in that time frame, he could only think of how angry he was. Arthur regretted it so much. Felt so terrible about it.

There had been the sickening noise of the impact, tires screeching, the bus driver leaning on his horn - and in the moment of her death, Gilbert and Arthur made eye contact. Though the two friends were more than twenty feet away from each other, separated by the mist and the now-panicked traffic, Arthur knew that Gilbert knew... well, knew that Arthur could have saved Louise's life and that he didn't.

Arthur would never forget the way Gilbert had looked at him from across the street, the look of shocked disbelief and anger and terror.

They were never quite friends after that day.

**December 12th **

Arthur always thought about that incident. It had been haunting him since it happened. He could have saved her life. He didn't. What he wouldn't give to relive that day!

But the strangest thing was that he always wondered why he had defended Elizaveta so fiercely.

After more than two years, he finally figured out why. Something clicked inside of him - something that had always been buried but was now rising to the surface.

He showered, threw on his clothes for the Soirée, and picked up his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Elizaveta's number. He called her without thinking about it, because he knew if he stopped to consider what he was doing, he'd never actually do it. She answered on the second ring. "Arthur! Hey!"

"Hey, where are you?"

"Um... I'm in the car. I just left Ivan's house. Long story."

Arthur shrugged. "Okay, well, I was wondering if I could pick you up a little earlier? Since it starts at six, I was thinking I'd maybe pick you up at five-ish?"

"Oh, sure, that'll give me forty-five minutes to get ready. Sounds good! But why?"

"W-well"- Arthur stammered. He could feel his face turning bright red, and he was glad he wasn't speaking with Elizaveta in person. "M-maybe we could - I thought we could, like, go to dinner or something?" the Brit mentally cursed himself. Had he really just said 'like'? He sounded like Feliks, that weird sophomore who was always wearing dresses and skipping around the halls, humming Polish songs.

Elizaveta actually laughed. "A true romantic, huh! Seriously, though, that sounds nice. See you soon!"

"Yeah, bye." Arthur hung up and sat back down on the edge of his bed, his heart hammering in his chest. The hopeless romantic side of him began carrying his thoughts away like a boat from shore, and he pictured all the things he might say to Elizaveta while they were at dinner. Things... things like...

_"You're beautiful."_

_"I've always liked you, Elizaveta."_

_"I swear to defend your honor forever."_


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: People commented on USUK in previous chapters. I hadn't really noticed, but I decided to put more in here. Kinda. Please review and enjoy!

* * *

**December 12th**

Alfred was in the middle of getting dressed when his phone rang. He buttoned the sleeves of his shirt and picked it up off of his dresser. "Hey?"

"Alfred, I did something I shouldn't have..."

Alfred froze, trying to place the voice. "Arthur! Wait, wait. Dude, just tell me about Louise, then you can ramble on about whatever other issues you might have."

"No. Can't... Can't do that -" Arthur's voice sounded frantic.

"Okay, fine." Alfred sighed, placing the phone between his shoulder and his ear, and began to put on his tie. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I kind of - I asked Elizaveta to dinner. But that's not really... I mean, something else..."

Alfred laughed, but not meanly. "If you want love advice, you should have called Francis."

"Alfred, I'm seriously not - I'm at my wit's edge..."

The American paused. "You sound really upset. Seriously, Iggy? You asked a girl out and now you're having a meltdown? It's not even a big deal."

"Git! I didn't ask her out. T-that's not why I'm upset! I can't"- he muttered something incomprehensible.

"Arthur, I can't hear you. Talk louder," Alfred said, growing concerned. Arthur was acting very strangely. "You okay, man? Should I drive over?"

"No, don't."

"Okay, then! Tell me what's wrong!"

"That day between eighth and ninth grade, when Louise got hit by the bus - it was my fault. It was all my fault! We got into a fight. I never really liked her! She was being very, very rude to Elizaveta, so when she ran in the street, we saw the bus coming for her, and I could have grabbed her, but I didn't! I'm a terrible person. It's my fault. Don't tell me different, Alfred. I know what I did! That's the secret. I so wish I had done something different!" Arthur said it all in a rush, gasping for air when he was finished.

"Wait, wait," Alfred exclaimed, struggling to keep up. "You said 'we' saw the bus coming for her... Who's 'we'?"

"Gilbert and I saw," Arthur replied. "He knew I didn't save her."

"That's it," Alfred snapped. "I'm hanging up and driving over. I don't care what you say, Arthur."

"No! Don't come over. I'm leaving in a minute to pick up Elizaveta anyways, alright?"

Alfred shook his head, hung up, grabbed his jacket, and walked out to his car.

｡｡｡｡｡

Alfred rang the doorbell, waiting anxiously. Arthur's mother, Alice Kirkland, answered. She saw Alfred and smiled. "Hello, Alfred. Arthur's upstairs, getting ready. Why don't you go up?"

"Thanks, Mrs. Kirkland," Alfred said, walking past her and up the stairs. Arthur's room was the third door down the upstairs hallway. It was closed. Alfred was about to knock when Peter, Arthur's eight-year-old brother, ran up to him. "Hey, Alfred!"

Alfred grinned. "Hello. What's up?"

Peter pointed at Arthur's door. "Arthur's upset. He's been in there for a while."

"Is he okay?" Alfred asked, worry turning to panic. He knew Arthur's bedroom had an attached bathroom, but he wouldn't dare do anything, would he? _Would he? _

The rock in Alfred's stomach eased when the door opened a crack, and one of Arthur's emerald eyes appeared. "I told you not to come over."

"Sorry," Alfred snorted. "It's not personal. Actually, it is. If I didn't care about you, do you think I woulda bothered dragging my ass over to see if you were okay or not?"

Arthur gave in, opening the door all the way. "Fine. Come in. Peter, get out of here."

Peter stuck his tongue out at his older brother. "Have fun at your stupid dance."

Arthur flicked Peter's forehead and shut the door again.

Alfred sat down on one of the plush armchairs in Arthur's room. The Kirkland family was rather well-to-do. Something about lots of inherited money. Prestigious family line. Alfred couldn't remember, and frankly, he didn't care at that moment. He turned his attention to Arthur, who was perched on the edge of his neat bed. "So?"

"So?! I told you to stay at home."

"You didn't sound too good," Alfred insisted. "Should I call Francis? Matthew?"

"Why the bloody hell would you do that?!"

"No clue, but you're really freaking me out. Can you just calm down?"

Arthur looked puzzled. "You aren't mad?"

"Mad?" Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Why would I be mad?"

"About Louise. Don't you think I'm a terrible person?"

Alfred shrugged. "Isn't everyone in The Confidants' Club a terrible person?"

Arthur covered his face with his hands. "Matthew isn't," he said, his voice muffled by his palms. "You aren't."

"What?" Alfred's heart caught in his throat. "No, don't worry. It was an accident."

Arthur's head flew up and he stared at his friend with such fury and intensity that after a moment or two, Alfred looked away, focusing on the brick fireplace near the bed. "It wasn't an accident, Alfred - that's the point!" he snarled. "If it were an accident, Gilbert wouldn't be holding this against me, and I wouldn't be feeling so terribly guilty!"

"Arthur," Alfred gasped. He had never seen Arthur like this before. Louise's death and the secret were probably really bothering him. "D-does anyone else know?"

"No. You can't tell. If anyone finds out, it's over."

"You're being dramatic."

"Alfred. Don't you understand? Everyone else's secrets - oh, they're little things. I'm responsible for someone else's _death!" _

Alfred bit down on his tongue, frustrated. "Look, if anyone finds out about any of our secrets, it's not going to be fun. You're not the only one who's struggling here."

"You already confronted Natalia! I don't know who my secret-keeper is!" And then it happened. A tear spilled out of Arthur's eye. Alfred's own eyes widened. He had only seen Arthur cry once. (Back in seventh grade, they had gone sledding. Needless to say, disaster ensued, and Arthur ended up crashing. When he stood up, his arm was unnaturally bent; tears were streaming down his cheeks. Mrs. Kirkland had not been pleased.)

_Oh, Gilbert, _Alfred thought. _Why would you do this to us? _He walked over to Arthur and tried to comfort him. "It'll be okay," he said awkwardly. "Don't worry. Uh... don't cry, please? I'm sorry, I don't really know what to do... do you want some water or something?"

Arthur shook his head.

"Ah... um, do you"-

"Can you get my phone?" Arthur asked. "It's on the n-nightstand." He had gotten hiccups. "The password is 'mint'... c-can you call Elizaveta and tell her I won't be able to g-get her early? I just can't right now..."

Alfred did. Elizaveta sounded surprised that he was calling her from Arthur's phone, but didn't seem too upset by the cancelled plans. Alfred wondered if Elizaveta actually liked Arthur or if she just thought the dinner was supposed to be friendly, or maybe she was just totally oblivious to everything. Alfred knew it wasn't the appropriate time to ask, but after he disconnected the call with Elizaveta, he asked, "You like her?"

Arthur shrugged, his lip trembling. "I don't really know. I do. I think. But I don't... Alfred, I seriously just can't do this..."

Alfred stopped questioning him, because it was obvious he was having an emotional meltdown.

"You know what's weird?" Arthur asked, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "I was totally fine before you came. I was happy, even. Then right before you called me, I just got really upset..."

"Uh, Arthur, you called _me..."_

"What? I did?" He sniffled. "I don't remember that... Am I losing my mind?"

Alfred handed him a tissue. He had no clue what to say, but he didn't like watching Arthur sitting there all dressed up in his suit and tie, crying his heart out. Without thinking, he grabbed Arthur and pulled him into a hug. Alfred was standing and Arthur was still sitting, so it was somewhat awkward, but a hug nonetheless.

"...Alfred?"

Alfred narrowed his eyes, his chin resting on Arthur's shoulder. "Shut up."

"Why aren't you mad?"

Alfred buried his face in his friend's shoulder. "Because you're my friend and I think it's okay that you made one mistake."

"I - I -"

"Everything is going to be okay."


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: I've procrastinated the Soirée for so long, but it finally begins in this chapter - and so does major drama! Please enjoy and review!

* * *

**December 12th **

The school's gymnasium was packed. The decoration crew had done a superb job of transforming the empty exercise area into a (excuse the cliché) winter wonderland. A row of long tables had been set up in the back of the gym, covered by an elegant white tablecloth and tons of light hors d'oeuvres. Snowflake garlands - a lot like the ones in the Café Italia - covered the walls, and the room was dark, the majority of the brightness in the gym coming from hanging lights.

"Wow," Elizaveta gasped, eyes wide. Arthur nodded in agreement. He was still feeling a bit shaky, but he had pulled himself together after Alfred left his house. In fact, Arthur spotted Alfred across the gym near the refreshments table, chatting with Kiku Honda and Mei Xiao. Alfred smiled and shot Arthur a thumbs-up, which made Arthur feel about a thousand times better.

"Sorry I couldn't make it to dinner," Arthur said to Elizaveta. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay," Elizaveta replied cheerfully, but didn't ask for further explanations. Arthur was grateful for that.

"Let's go talk to people," Arthur suggested.

"Okay! How about..." Elizaveta glanced around the room, searching for their friends, and frowned. "Wait..."

"What's the matter?" Arthur asked.

"I'll be right back," Elizaveta said, eyes narrow. "Can you wait here for just a second?"

Ignoring his curiosity, Arthur forced a nod. "Sure."

Elizaveta hurried across the gym, moving around people and repeating "Excuse me" until she found who she was looking for.

"Anya? What are you doing here?!" Elizaveta exclaimed, speaking loudly over the music.

The Russian girl turned and smiled. "Oh, hello, Elizaveta! Are you looking for Ivan?"

"N-no"- Elizaveta faltered. "I mean, why are you here? Aren't you too old for silly high school dances?"

"Ivan told me to come with him! We had to pay a little extra to get my ticket, because, you know, I do not go to this school, but it's fine!" Anya stopped and looked closely at Elizaveta. Elizaveta felt self-conscious - Anya was much taller than her, and looked somewhat intimidating, even though she was pretty and nice. "Elizaveta, are you sure we haven't met before?"

And suddenly it hit Elizaveta. Hard. She did know Anya. She _did._

And not in a good way. She remembered. She remembered everything.

"Okay, yes, we have met," Elizaveta relented, suddenly exhausted. "But please don't tell anyone you know me. Or how you know me. Please?"

Anya looked concerned. "I won't, but is everything alright"-

"Where's Ivan? I need to verify something."

"I - I'm not sure..." Anya trailed off and Elizaveta dashed away, not even bothering to say goodbye.

This was looking very, very bad. Elizaveta spotted Ivan near the front of the gym, dancing with Anastasia, another girl in their grade, and started walking towards him when she was intercepted by Michelle and Francis. Elizaveta really hadn't been that surprised when Francis asked Michelle to the dance, but she didn't want to talk to either of them that moment.

"Bonjour, Elizaveta!" Francis said, beaming, but Elizaveta looked in his eyes and could tell it was somewhat forced. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Elizaveta said quickly. "I have to talk to someone, okay?"

"What's the matter?" Michelle asked, but Elizaveta ignored her and continued walking to Ivan. She reached up and tapped him on the shoulder, and he stopped dancing for a moment to look at her. "Da?"

Anastasia grinned. "Hello! Are you enjoying the dance? You came with Arthur, right?"

"I'm sorry, Anastasia, but can I talk to Ivan for just a moment? Alone? Don't worry, I'm not trying to steal your date!" Elizaveta joked lamely. Thankfully, Anastasia just smiled, nodded, and walked away, giving them space.

"What's wrong?" Ivan inquired.

"Why is Anya here?"

A shadow crossed Ivan's face. "I couldn't leave her home alone, and she especially can't be there when my father gets home. She doesn't know about his... condition."

"Ivan," Elizaveta said suddenly, "I know you father is... is an alcoholic, but do _you_ drink?"

"Sometimes." Ivan's voice was challenging and defensive. "I don't think we should discuss that here, though. We don't want to ruin a fun party, da?"

"What do you drink?" she pressed.

"Vodka."

"What _kind?" _

"Elizaveta, why do you even care?" Ivan snapped. "It is not really your concern."

"Absolut?" Elizaveta insisted, growing anxious. She had to know - _had to _- but didn't want to anger Ivan, because that could be potentially _dangerous. _

"I. Do. Not. Like. Absolut," Ivan spat through gritted teeth. He was obviously starting to lose his temper, but Elizaveta kept pushing.

"Does your family drink Absolut?"

"No."

"Never?"

_"Never." _

"So you've never been in possession of a bottle of Absolut?"

Ivan started to say 'no' the paused, considering the question. "I had a bottle of it once. I didn't drink it. I gave it away," he said slowly. "Again, why?"

"Where did you get the bottle of vodka from?" Elizaveta asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Anya. She came to America over the summer, and she gave me a bottle of Absolut while we were at a party. She said she got it for me, but I don't like Absolut, so as I've said, I gave it away. I gave it to Gilbert, because he was also at the party."

"You... you gave it to _Gilbert?"_

"That's what I just said," retorted Ivan.

This confirmed what Elizaveta already knew.

"Ivan, remember the last line on the suicide note Gilbert wrote to you? _'Where do you buy your vodka?'" _

"Yes." Ivan was thoroughly intrigued.

"Well, how do I explain this, exactly... Do you know what my secret is? No? Well, when I was a freshman, my family was in a really bad situation. My dad lost his job, and we were really struggling. But, I know, it's probably nothing you haven't heard before. Anyways, my Katalin Néni is an"-

"Sorry," Ivan interrupted. "Katalin Néni?"

"My, ah, Aunt Katalin," Elizaveta explained. "Sorry, I'm used to speaking Hungarian when I'm with her. Anyways, she's an alcoholic. She lives close by, so I used to go over and visit her. She always left her alcoholic drinks lying around. Her favorite was Absolut Vodka. Every time I went over to her house - and mind you, that was maybe once a week! - I'd take a bottle of beer here, a bit of vodka there... you follow me?"

Ivan nodded slowly. "Did you drink it?"

"Of course not!" Elizaveta laughed bitterly. "Because that wouldn't make for a very interesting secret, would it? No, I sold it - for lots of money. To help my parents with all the bills. They didn't know how I was getting the money. I lied and told them I had a job. It was a job, honestly - I had to make sure no one ever told about what I was doing, because I might have gotten arrested. But I had to help my parents!"

"Okay, okay," Ivan said. "It's okay. Calm down. Finish the story."

"I told Gilbert about it earlier this year. In, like, February, because he was at my house and found a bunch of alcoholic drinks in my bathroom. So I confessed to him that I sold them illegally. Well, illegally in the United States, I suppose."

"How does this matter to him, though?"

"Well, remember the last time your cousin visited the United States? It was this past July, wasn't it? I met her at a party. The one you were talking about. But at that time, I honestly didn't know she was your cousin. I had a bottle of Absolut with me, because I had just visited Katalin Néni, and I thought maybe it would be fun to bring to a party, y'know? She offered me fifteen dollars for it. And by then, my parents were in a stable financial condition, so, I mean, why not? But now I know that she just bought the vodka so she could give it to you, and since you don't like Absolut, you gave it to Gilbert. Which begs the question..."

"What did Gilbert do with it?" finished Ivan. "And how does it tie in with his death?"


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Ugh, school started recently, and I'm swamped with work and activities. Updates are probably going to start coming a lot slower - for all of my stories - but at least I have an excuse. And I'll try to update as frequently as possible. If you've stuck with me this far, thank you!

* * *

**December 12th **

"So, are you having fun?"

Arthur jumped in surprise. He had been so focused on waiting for Elizaveta he hadn't noticed Alfred walking up beside him. But, then again, the gym was pretty loud.

"Eh." Arthur shrugged. "I guess so. I don't know where Elizaveta went, though."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "She's over there, talking to Ivan. Great, right?"

"What, are you two still arguing?" Arthur asked, though of course he knew the answer to that question. Surprisingly, Alfred just said, "He's entitled to his own opinion. Hey, have you seen Matthew around?"

"Matthew? No, why?"

Alfred shrugged again. "I don't know. Just wondering. He said he was going to try to look for his secret-keeper, since he didn't have a date."

"Right. What was his secret anyways? Rejecting Gilbert? Because that isn't so horrendous. It just shows that he's straight, which is hardly a secret. It's more like an expectation, really."

Alfred waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, his secret isn't bad at all, not compared to ours. I guess Gilbert went easy on Matthew because he liked him? At any rate, Matthew told me his secret was basically just how, you know, Matthew rejected Gilbert. But Gilbert was also angry with Matthew because he didn't want to like guys."

"But that isn't Matthew's fault," Arthur protested. "I mean, I don't think Matthew would - or could - change someone's orientation..."

Alfred snorted. "Believe me, I know. But Gilbert seems to be content with taking no responsibility for anything. Stupid, really. I don't get why he never told me anything, even when I told him _everything."_

"Yeah, I understand," Arthur replied. "Hey, here comes Elizaveta. See you later, Alfred."

｡｡｡｡｡

"Something was off there," Francis remarked. If he hadn't already asked Michelle, he wouldn't have gone to the dance at all. He was tired and just wanted to lie down for a little while. He missed Gilbert, but was also furious with the unnecessary spite and selfishness.

Michelle ran a hand through her dark hair. "Hmm?"

"With Elizaveta," Francis said.

"Definitely," Michelle agreed, thinking of her best friend's strange behavior. "I wonder what's up with her..."

｡｡｡｡｡

"Ow! Watch where you're going."

"Sorry," Lukas said flatly. He had accidentally stepped on Natalia Arlovskaya's foot, but did she honestly have to be such a psycho bitch about it? Eh, Lukas thought, she was a psycho bitch about everything, so perhaps it didn't really matter. He stopped for a moment and looked back at her. She didn't look very happy - she was staring at Ivan, who was across the gym, dancing with Anastasia - and a sad, lonely look filled her eyes.

"Want to dance?" Lukas asked, sympathy getting the better of him.

Natalia looked at him. Her response was endearing: _"Me?"_

"Yes. You."

She smiled but did her best to hide it. "O-okay. But just remember, it doesn't mean I like you! My heart belongs to-"

Lukas had to hide a laugh. "Ivan, I know. Everybody knows. Alright, well, I'm not so fond of you, either."

Natalia did smile then. "Fine, we can dance."

As they were dancing, Lukas decided it couldn't hurt to poke around. "So, do you know my half-brother?"

"Emil, right? Freshman?"

"Yes. He's friends with Ivan, I think." That was a lie, but Lukas knew for a fact that Ivan preferred Emil to any of the other freshmen.

"Oh, is that so?" Natalia sounded slightly interested.

"Yes. He and Ivan and Arthur and Mathias..." Lukas was hoping to provoke some sort of reaction from Natalia, but he didn't get one. When the song was finished, he let go of her, wished her a nice evening, and walked away, heading to the restrooms. _Hmm... _

Meanwhile, Elizaveta and Arthur excused themselves from the dance floor to head to the refreshments table. It was against his better judgment, but Arthur felt the need to tell someone what Alfred had just said, and Elizaveta seemed like a good choice. The only thing that made Arthur uneasy was how distant Elizaveta was being - yeah, he knew she was somewhat of an introvert, but there was a certain frigidness in her eyes that not even the flame of her smile could melt.

At any rate, Arthur helped himself to a glass of punch and decided to go ahead and ask. "Have you seen Matthew?"

Elizaveta picked up a chocolate-dipped strawberry. "Matthew? No. Why?"

"Do you know what his secret is?"

"Huh?" Elizaveta looked at Arthur. "I don't."

"You know how Gilbert was gay?"

Arthur very sorely regretted asking that question. The iciness in Elizaveta's eyes cracked, and tears brimmed in the corners of her eyes. "Yeah, I know."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset." Arthur chided himself for being so stupid.

"N-no, it's okay." Elizaveta's lip trembled. "Go on. Matthew?"

Arthur regained composure. "Right. Gilbert... liked Matthew, I guess. But Matthew rejected him. Alfred told me, but I don't remember exactly what he was saying. I just - maybe it's stupid, but I just wanted to tell you."

Elizaveta frowned. "Tell me? Why?"

"I - just because," Arthur said lamely.

"It should have been me," she whispered, so quietly Arthur could barely hear her over the pounding of music.

"What?"

"It should have been me," Elizaveta repeated, a bit louder. "Gilbert should have fallen in love with me."

Arthur forced a laugh. "But if you and Gilbert were together, we wouldn't have gone to the Soirée together."

Elizaveta shot him a quizzical look. "We're just friends, Arthur. We didn't even know each other before The Confidants' Club, so if Gilbert were still alive, you wouldn't have wanted to go with me - wouldn't have even really known me."

"That's not true!"

"Oh, really? Which part isn't true?" Elizaveta smiled, amused. "Arthur, are you trying to say what I think you're trying to say?"

"I - I don't - know..." the conversation was so confusing Arthur could barely keep up. "But what you're saying - did you love Gilbert?"

Elizaveta looked Arthur in the eye. "I did. If he had asked me, I wouldn't have rejected him. He could have had me. We were best friends for so long. I would have done everything possible for him! But, Arthur, understand this: we were always friends, but it was never me. He never loved me back. It was always Matthew, like you said. Or Louise." Her voice wasn't sarcastic. Just tired.

"Louise?" Arthur exclaimed, and it occurred to him that the only person who knew his secret besides his secret-keeper was Alfred. He bit his tongue.

"Yes. Weren't you close with them both? Didn't you know that they liked each other?"

"I... I wasn't very close with Louise," Arthur admitted guiltily. Elizaveta would never really understand just how much, though. He couldn't get over what he was hearing. Elizaveta loved _Gilbert? _

"Arthur, why do you look like you're in extreme pain?" Elizaveta asked softly.

"Well, love, I think you know..."

"But I don't believe you actually lo"-

"I'm going home," Arthur interrupted. He knew he was being rude, and he knew he'd regret it later, or at least feel bad about it. But he just couldn't stand it. It was not how he had wanted the day to go. Revealing his secret about Louise. Crying his face off while Alfred comforted him. And now this. Arthur wasn't even sure if he actually liked Elizaveta. Maybe he had misinterpreted his feelings. After all, how could he like someone who was being so bloody _inconsiderable?_

But at the same time, he knew Elizaveta was going through hell, too. They all were.

"Arthur, wait," Elizaveta called; Arthur knew she was crying.

He didn't look back.


End file.
